


Walking on the Edge

by Reylinne



Category: Harringrove - Fandom, Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: (kind of anyways), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Billy Hargrove Needs Love, Billy Hargrove Tries to Be a Better Person, Billy Hargrove being a good brother, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Eleven and Billy Hargrove are best friends, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Gayer Things, Harringrove, I Will Go Down With This Ship, It will be don't worry, M/M, Make it gay cowards, Neil Hargrove can suck a dick, Slow Burn, Smart Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, These boys need each other, like really slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-23 11:47:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 71,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13787019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reylinne/pseuds/Reylinne
Summary: A tale of the awkward self discovery journey and sloppy misadventures of Billy Hargrove and Steve Harrington in their quest to heal and (hint hint Duffer Brothers) get the redemption that is deserved. Everybody deserves a second chance and friendship - but sometimes you have to go through hell and back to get to that point.





	1. Chapter 1

The past few weeks had been quiet. Calm. _Calmer._ Steve lay in bed, motionless for a moment, only rolling over to look at the clock on the wall. It's earlier than he normally gets out of bed on a usual school day, but he rolls out nonetheless. He trudges to the bathroom, stopping in front of the mirror and staring at himself. Sulking, he traces the healing wounds on his face, feeling a ping of anger - but just a little bit of anger, not a lot - at the memory. He idles a bit before resuming his business, washing up and then finally heading down to raid the fridge.

“Hellooo?” Steve calls out into his big, empty house, voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling. “I'm going to make some eggs, anyone want any?” He continues to talk to himself sarcastically, grabbing the carton of eggs from the fridge and setting it gently on the counter.

Steve takes his breakfast plate out to the living room and plops himself down on the couch by the window, parting the curtains slightly, looking outside at the breaking of dawn. He doesn't feel lonely, doesn’t feel sad, just detached - emotionless. He eats his breakfast in silence before retreating back upstairs to do his hair and get dressed.

When Steve leaves for school, he’s so early that he’s unsure if the doors will even be unlocked for students’ arrival yet.The drive feels extra long today and Steve isn't really sure why, but decides it's because he's _really_ early for classes. When he pulls up to the school, he sees the staff parking lot filled, and a total of four other student cars.

His eyes immediately drift to the blue Camaro parked in the first row, and instantly the bruises and cuts on his face sting a little bit in recollection. He heaves a little bit, debating on going for an hour long drive instead of risking running into his assailant inside. Throwing his vehicle into park, he  hunches over and attempts to psych himself up for his day. He has his book bag in his lap, ready to go, but he just watches. Stares. For what feels like eons but is really probably only two or three minutes. He settles on the decision to enter the building after an inner game of tennis, because he was going to study, to relax before his first period, so it’s not like he’d even run into Billy. He was probably in morning detention anyhow.

Steve heads in, making his way to his hour one class. The lights in the main hallways are off,  and the light from the classroom pours out from a half open door like liquid. As he approaches and reaches for the handle, he sighs. He spots the teacher sitting next to someone hunched over the desk, head down with golden curls wild and spilling out all over. Billy Hargrove, pulled up next to the teacher? All of a sudden Billy throws his head back, a pencil gripped tightly in one hand and his other on his forehead, jaw clenched in what appears to be anger. How unusual.

“But then what about the slope?” He spits, opening his hand in frustration - Steve can catch bits of their conversation.

“You have to use point-slope form.”

“I don't fucking get this,” Billy slams his palm on the desk sharply.

The teacher sighs. “You know more than you think you know,”

Awkwardly, Steve backs away and purses his lips, feeling uncomfortable listening to exchange.  Shaking his head, he wanders to his locker and opens it, filling his bag with the next two classes’ worth of books to save himself a trip later. Soon, students start filing into the school, and Steve reluctantly heads back to his first period classroom, walking a snail’s pace in an attempt to avoid Billy.

Unfortunately, Billy is just now leaving and he spots Steve in the doorway as he's aggressively shoving his book in his backpack. He hardly makes eye contact, and Steve definitely isn’t offended. “Harrington,” he mumbles, shoulder-checking Steve hard as he pushes his way past the hordes of teenagers to get into the hallway.. Steve feels weird about the encounter but shrugs it off and takes his seat.

The past few weeks have been pretty normal, life getting back to the usual grind for the most part after he helped a bunch of kids torch an otherworldly monster from the inside. He’s managed to avoid his enemy well - Billy’s been ignoring him pretty avidly since _the incident_ and he has absolutely no problem with it. It’s better for Steve’s mental (and physical) wellbeing if Billy would keep his asshole attitude and his hot and bothered fists as far away from him and the kids as possible.

Nevertheless, Steve thinks about stupid fucking Billy at lunch. He wonders what has been going through the other boy’s thick head since that night. Not that they're friends, because they're not, not that he even really knows Billy, because he doesn't, but he could tell something was off. Billy was one for embarrassing Steve at every chance he got, giving back-handed compliments before putting him right back in his place - underneath Billy on the social ladder. The last time they really had any sort of conversation was when shit hit the fan a couple weeks back, and it really didn’t even count since Billy was out of his mind anyways.

 

* * *

 

Steve had returned to the Byers’ house, opening the door to the nearly empty home. He immediately spotted Billy, clearly still woozy, crouched next to the fridge with his head in his hands. Steve shifted his weight from one foot to another as assessed the situation. He debated on whether or not to help him - after all, his own lip was busted and his face was nearly unrecognizable thanks to him.

_What are you doing, Steve? You have to help him. He's totally out of it._

His hands flew up to his face, bloody and beaten at the hands of the other boy. Steve suffered  a crisis of conscience as he weighed his options - he sighed heavily and headed over to the impaired Billy.

“Hey,” he grabbed Billy's strong shoulder and shook him roughly. “Let's go. We have to get you out of here.” No response. Steve reached up to Billy’s face, trying to remove his hands until Billy finally let him. He slowly lifted his head and looked at Steve, defeated. He had blood dripping from his nose  down his chin with some fallout on his chest. His blue eyes were glazed over and for a just a moment, he looked weak. Billy's hair hung limp all over, curls matted and straggly.

“...Mom?” Billy whispered, reaching his hand out to cup Steve's cheek. Upon the touch and apparent realisation, he jerked his hand away immediately as if in regret. He let out what sounded like a small sob and rubbed his eyes hard. “Uunnn shit...what is wrong with me…” he threw his head back violently against the fridge and Steve jumped at the sudden motion.

He didn't know what to do. He awkwardly looked around, unsure, starting to panic. “I'm, uh,  gonna call your parents…”

As Steve stood up, Billy did so too, clumsily, reaching for him. “Do _not_ call my...dad…” he slurred, hands clamping around Steve's arm.

Steve turned to him, raising his eyebrows. He fought the urge to be rude, because he knew that Billy wasn’t in his right mind and it wouldn’t be fair. As if Billy Hargrove cared anything about fairness - if it were the other way around, Billy definitely wouldn’t have even came back for him let alone tried to be _fair._ “Y-yeah, okay, I won't,” Steve’s eyes drifted down to the other's hands on his arm. “...but you have to come with me. I have to bring you home.”

Billy was mumbling something that Steve couldn't quite make out as he wrapped his arm around him. Steve felt like absolute death as he helped him out of the front door. The route to the Camaro was an adventure with Billy stumbling all over the place. They finally arrived at the car, and Steve shoved Billy aggressively into the passenger seat. Steve closed his eyes as he gingerly reached around the other boy and tried to grab the car keys. He felt Billy studying him closely as he searched for his target. His eyes met Billy's as he was leaning over him, a frown forming on Steve’s face as he debated on strangling the bastard until he heard the jangle of keys behind him.

He could feel the warmth of Billy's breath on his face, “They're over here, pretty boy,”

Steve paused, holding eye contact for a moment, in disbelief over what he was hearing. Woozy and out of his mind, Billy was still able to be a dick. He’d thought Steve was his mother not even five minutes ago, for fuck’s sake. He jerked out of the car and ripped the keys from Billy's hand. “Thanks, asshole,” he rolled his eyes, Billy’s laughter cut off by the slamming of the car door.

 

* * *

 

“Steve?” It's Jonathan. He's taking fries off of Steve's tray. “I'm gonna end up eating all of these and then-”

“I uh - it’s okay, I'm not too concerned,” Steve comes alive and mumbles to Jonathan, who turns to Nancy and raises both of his eyebrows.

“Where were you, Steve?” Nancy prods him. They clearly were talking to him the entire time he was zoned out in his memories.

“I was just thinking about all of the shit we went through a couple weeks ago, that's all.” Steve grabs his burger and takes a giant bite out of it. “So Jonathan, have you made any copies of that video you recorded of me dancing the other night?” he says sloppily, dropping a tiny bit of food from his mouth.

Nancy reels in subtle disgust and Jonathan laughs. “No, I haven't. What do you think, I'm going to pass out tapes to everyone labeled 'Steve Harrington dancing to Earth Angel’?”

Steve shrugs with a smile on his face, still chewing. “It's good though, you have to admit.”

The rest of lunch progresses slowly, which is a relief to Steve because he's exhausted. There’s no reason for him to be tired at all - he’s done nothing physically demanding or stressful. When the bell rings, Steve grabs his bag and dumps his lunch tray in the trash, accidentally knocking into his former best friend Tommy awkwardly on the way to his next period.

He quickly aborts the path he was headed on to avoid Tommy’s rude remarks, circling around the entire school to escape. English is his next class, and he takes his seat in the middle of the classroom next to all of the other mediocre students who don’t want to look like teacher’s pets by sitting voluntarily in the front or fuck themselves over by sitting in the back.

“Alright,” the teacher starts off. “That’s the bell, so we’ll begin.” He passes out papers to the person in the front of each row of desks to hand backward. “We'll be doing a book report in pairs for the next assignment,”

Collective groans from the classroom ensue.

The teacher rolls his eyes. “It's not really a big deal so we're going to just go by the alphabet. We'll go down the attendance list and count off 1 and 2.”

Steve rests his chin on his palm and the exhaustion comes flooding back, eyes fluttering closed, feeling like he could take the best nap of his lifetime right in that exact moment. And then the realisation of what the teacher just said hits him like a sucker punch to the face.

“Billy Hargrove.” The teacher looks up at Billy, sitting in the front row right next to the teacher’s desk because he's Billy and he's naughty and mouthy and someone has to keep an eye on him. Billy turns back to look directly at Steve. “One,” he says firmly, eyes flaming,  holding eye contact, because the realisation had hit him too.

“Steve Harrington.” The teacher calls out. _Ouch._

“...Two,” Steve swallows hard, Billy's eyes burning through his soul from across the room. He doesn't break eye contact, until Billy mouths a solemn ‘ _screw you Harrington’_ before turning around, arms crossed.

Steve felt his heart rate go through the roof. The last thing he needed was to have to deal with Billy's bullshit for this project. His grades were already suffering at the hands of the stress following the whole gate and mind flayer ordeal within the past month, and his facial wounds still weren't even completely healed yet. And now, he'd probably be getting more because he has to work with an unhinged psychopath.

His breaths are shaky and he feels like his legs are gelatinous when the class is dismissed into work time. Everyone makes noises of discontent as they're forced to work with people who aren't necessarily their friends, Billy included. He doesn't get up for a moment, and just as Steve starts to stand, the other shoots up and stomps over to him. He starts to speak, his eyes intense and angry but he’s interrupted by the teacher. Steve is thankful for the break in Billy’s hostility.

“A couple of you can go down to the library, would anyone-”

Billy suddenly whips around aggressively. “Me n’ Harrington’ll go,” he grabs the pass from the suspicious teacher and waves Steve over. He reluctantly follows, looking over his shoulder at his teacher and for a moment, Steve swears that he sees him snickering. So funny. Hilarious.

 

Billy walks fast and with intent, and Steve finds himself half-jogging to keep up with him as he speeds down the hallway. “Can you hold up for a second? Jesus Christ,  Billy,” he pants.

“Not my fault you’re not athletic, you twerp. I’ll just meet you there in twenty I fucking guess,” Billy shoots, tossing a glare over his shoulder as  he slowly advances farther and farther ahead of Steve.

When they get to the library, Billy rips around the bookshelves, grabbing heavy text after heavy text. Steve wonders if he’s on some sort of upper and just lets him do his thing and takes a seat by the windows on the far wall. He pulls out a notebook and waits, watching Billy study the shelves, his thick fingers tracing the spines of the books. He runs a hand through his hair and fluffs his curls, pulling out one last book before locating Steve. The books slam down into the table loudly, causing the entire library to look at them and Steve is _absolutely_ not amused and it’s barely been five minutes.

“Look,” Billy finally speaks, pulling out a chair across from Steve and taps his feet rapidly. “I actually need to get a good grade, so I'll do all of the work, okay?” He doesn't look at Steve, he's already palming through the books and marking corners and jotting down page numbers.

Steve  scoffs. “Are you saying that you don't want me to help you whatsoever?”

Billy pauses. “I didn't say that. I'm saying that I _can not get a bad grade on this,_ ” he smacks his hand on the table with each syllable.

Obnoxious.

“So if you're not game to go hard, then lemme do it all.” Billy smacks his gum unwelcomely and Steve adds it to his rapidly growing mental list of grievances.

“Since when do you go hard academically?” He hisses.

Billy’s scowl turns into a smirk. He sticks his tongue out and runs it across his teeth, the way Billy does, and Steve immediately regrets his word choice. “I always go hard,” he pauses and raises one of his eyebrows, “ _in every aspect_.” Billy is looking down at his paper now, and he sticks the end of his pen in his mouth, biting it subtly and pulling his lip down with it. Blue eyes look up at Steve with a hint of something sinister in them. Steve feels his mouth is slightly agape in surprise, and he averts his attention literally anywhere but in Billy's direction.

 

The next two days pass by uneventfully, and Steve does exactly what Billy says and lets him do the entire project, because he would rather get a failing grade than bicker with Billy Hargrove.  Steve sits and doodles in his notebook while Billy scribbles sloppily in his own, eyes darting quickly between the textbook and his paper.

A librarian's aid approaches, four books in arm. “Hi, Billy,” she whispers to a silent audience. Steve watches as Billy gives her the side eye and ignores her. He hides a chuckle as she walks away, clearly slightly embarrassed at the lack of response. Steve doesn’t blame her- nothing is worse than rejection.

“Theresa looks like Mr. Potato Head,” Steve mumbles under his breath a little bit too loudly, causing Billy to look up at him angrily.

“Do you wanna shut up, dick? I'm trying to get us a good grade,” his eyes are full of fury, and Steve feels caught off guard by his sudden animosity after sitting in silence for a full two days.

“What, are you offended that I insulted your girlfriend?”

Billy makes a face. “ _My_ girlfriend?” He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, smirking. “Not my type.” he jeers, puckering his lips a little bit.

Steve rolls his eyes and puts his head down on the desk. A few minutes pass and Steve turns his head to the side. His cheek presses against his arm, eyes studying his fellow students bustling about the library. And then he hears it.

He lifts his head and cocks his eyebrows. His eyes find Billy, who has his pencil in his hand. He’s holding it in front of his mouth, and Steve can tell from his cheeks that he's...smiling?

“What's wrong with you?” He looks around to see if Tommy is somewhere about, perhaps making faces behind his back or something. Billy slams his fist down on the table and gives his best icy glare to Steve. He holds eye contact for about 3 seconds before the hints of a smile peak the corners of his mouth.

“Hello?” Steve waves his hand in Billy’s face.  “What's your problem? Do I have something on my face? Or…”

Five minutes.

A full five minutes after Steve made a joke, he laughs. Steve sits up. He’s completely befuddled.

“You're funny, Harrington,” Billy half-smiles. Not a snarky one or his usual wolfish grin, but a genuine smile.

“I'm...funny?” Steve can’t help but feel that Billy has hostile intentions - feel like he’s about to be stabbed or something.

“You said Theresa looks like Mr. Potato Head,” Billy looks at his notebook and scribbles some nonsense along the edge of the paper absentmindedly.

Steve watches him doodle and he can't help but feel a little tiny bit lighter. He doesn't think he's ever even seen Billy be authentically in a good mood. Billy flicks his eyes in Steve’s direction a few times, shrugging it off.

“Sorry, nevermind.”

“What? Uh, no, it’s okay.” Steve is confused, if he didn’t know any better he’d say Billy sounded insecure about being nice.

Insecurity. A weakness. Weaknesses are more common than strengths.

But insecurity...insecurity seemed like a pretty unusual fit for someone like Billy who was so confident and condescending.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *TW for domestic abuse*

He could feel Billy's eyes on him. Steve glanced over to the passenger seat to see Billy sprawled out over as much space as he possibly could be, half sunken in and head rolling around to each side of his shoulders. He was just... _ staring _ at Steve and he felt so uneasy. He had actually never experienced such a bizarre situation in his entire life - driving Billy fucking Hargrove home in Billy's fucking car while he was out of his fucking mind.

“Prrrrr…”

Steve's head shot over to the other boy again. “What the fuck?”

“She's purring,”

“Who?”

“My baby,”

Steve pursed his lips and nodded slowly, eyes back on the road. To be completely honest, Steve had wanted to drive this car since he laid eyes on it - he had a weakness for muscle cars. Billy had looked so cool that day - stepping out of his Camaro with a cigarette in his hand sporting that Jean jacket he always wears and -

“You like her?”

Steve snapped out of that memory. “Y-yeah, I do. It's a really cool car,” he looked back and forth between Billy and the road. He hit the blinker and slowed down to turn.

Billy suddenly shot up and grabbed the steering wheel, jerking the car off the road. “Billy what the hell!?” Steve elbowed the other boy and regained control of the vehicle. 

Billy's head hung and he sighed loudly. “Harrington, I  _ told _ you I don't want my dad involved!” He bent over, shouted in his lap and grabbed his long hair at the root.

Steve ignored him and pulled up to the house. He drove the Camaro to where he felt it belonged and put it in park. Billy threw himself back in the seat violently.  “Come on, man, you need to grow up. You need to snap out of this shit,” Steve tapped his hand on Billy's cheek, lightly at first, but with increased pressure shortly thereafter. “You’re throwing a tantrum like a goddamn child.”

Billy grabbed Steve's hand and bent it backwards. “Don't test me, Harrington…” He suddenly felt an aching in his face, where the hand that held his wrist had broken his skin just hours earlier.

A slam came from outside and Steve turned his attention to the front door of the Hargrove residence. A man, whom he assumed was Billy's father, was storming down the steps. Steve jumped as he opened the passenger side door and grabbed his son's shoulder, spinning his body towards him.

“What the hell is this? Where have you been!?” He spat. He looked at Steve. “Is he drunk?”

Steve fumbled with the keys, avoiding eye contact with Billy’s dad and trying to hide his face. He hated dealing with parents, especially the parent of the boy who had just beaten the shit out of him earlier. 

“Yes sir,” he pressed the keys in Billy's palm and closed his fingers for him around the metal, trying to get him to hand them over to his dad.

“Well, at least you're polite, boy. Thanks for bringing him home…?”

“Steve Harrington,”

“Thanks much, Mr. Harrington. I'll get William inside and put him to bed.” Billy’s dad smiled and he couldn’t help but feel kind of nauseous just looking at him.

He avoided looking at him, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew that he could see his facial wounds. Steve watched the curtains close in one of the front rooms of the house, and he wondered if maybe it was Max watching out the window.

As he started his walk back to the Byers’ to get his own car in the dead of the night, the dark and silence felt like it was filling his bones. He felt like a weight was lifted off of his shoulders that night, knowing that Billy was out of the Byers’ (and his) hair and home safe and that the whole gate debacle was over. 

 

* * *

 

Steve cracks his knuckles against his steering wheel as he waits outside the middle school. 

“Bye guys!” Dustin calls out as he enters Steve's BMW. “What's up, dude?”

Steve nods for no reason. “I’m having a pretty decent day today,” he spills, slightly shrugging his shoulders. 

Dustin sits in silence. “And?” He moves his hands in a weird motion.

“And what?”

“Well what the hell Steve, aren't you going to explain?”

“I can’t have a good day or what?” Steve wrinkles his nose. “I don't even know really, I just kind of had a good day. That fine with you, dipshit?”

Dustin rolls his eyes. “Oooo-kay,” Steve turns on the engine and starts the drive to Dustin's house. “So how's working on the English project with Sir Satan?”

“It's...alright. Today was the last work day.”

“I'm sorry, it's what?”

“It's alright. He laughed at a joke I made today so at least there's that.” Steve grimaces, looking at Dustin's baffled expression.

“You know what's funny?” Steve doesn't reply because he figures Dustin is going to tell him right away anyway. “Those cuts and bruises all over your face. That  _ HE _ put there, Steve..”

Steve's lips pucker. “Yeah, they're real hilarious, asshole,” He turns into Dustin's driveway and ruffles the younger boy's hair as he exits the vehicle.

“Steve?” Dustin peeks his head back into the car. “Don't forget that the Snow Ball is coming up.”

“I'll pick you up, no worries,” Dustin smiles again and departs.

Steve arrives home to his house empty as per usual. “Honey, I'm home,” his voice sounds lonesome in the big empty house. He tosses his bag on the dining room table and opens the fridge, rummaging through a bunch of random shit. He sighs when he realises he doesn’t really have anything to make a proper meal, but what did it matter?

 

Billy was right. They got a 98% on their project, and Steve was pretty sure that the 2% off was probably his fault for being nearly silent (and also stupid) during the presentation.

He notices that Billy isn't as pushy towards him anymore, he doesn't see or hear him yelling at Max when he is picking her up across the middle school parking lot while he waits for Dustin. He hasn't pushed him around in phy-ed, and he hasn't made jokes at his expense publically in weeks. Billy even shoved Tommy in the locker room once after he made a joke about Steve being a pedophile. 

Steve had shrugged it off, because as long as it wasn't him getting beaten on the regular, quite frankly, he didn't care. Steve's mom had seen his facial wounds and threatened to get the police involved, but Steve had reassured her that it was fine and that he was old enough to handle himself, which was obviously a lie. He could bat a few demodogs down but put him up against raging hormonal asshole Billy Hargrove and he’d call it quits. Also Jonathan Byers beat him up once. That’s pretty embarrassing, and he’s thankful that Billy wasn’t in Hawkins at that point because he probably would have never heard the end of it from him - because he  _ still  _ hasn’t heard the end of it from Tommy and Tommy is mild compared to Billy.

His parents came and went and at this point, Steve only hung out with Jonathan and Nancy at school. When he sits alone at home, he feels empty, and wonders what it feels like to have true friends. He had Tommy and Carol before, but they were treacherous snakes that did nothing but belittle people and cause issues between him and Nancy. 

Nancy.  _ Nancy. _ The love of his life. He feels the sting of jealousy to this day as if the wound is fresh every time he sees her with Jonathan. And even though he's come to accept their relationship (and his own lack thereof), he wishes sometimes that he had never even gotten involved in the first place. At least, then he would still have friends in Tommy and Carol. He wonders what-

_ Riiiiiiiing. _

Steve jumps out of his thoughts and collects himself lamely as he trudges over to grab the phone. “Hello?” He says monotonously.

“Steve. It's Lucas,”

Steve plants an arm against the wall and fiddles with the phone cord. “Lucas, it's like 9:30, what are-”

“Can you pick up Max for me? My mom is gone and we're making her a birthday present.”

Steve hesitates. “...where's your dad?”

“With my mom,”

Steve can’t believe what he’s hearing. “They’re gone? This late at night? Where the hell did they go?”

“Look, I don’t know. Are you going to get her or not?” He can hear the impatience in Lucas’ voice.

He runs a hand through his hair, heaving a sigh. “...yeah, yeah. What time?”

 

Steve grunts in anger as he pulls up between Billy's Camaro and a truck parked on the other side of the driveway. He watches the house, hand hovering above the horn. He decides against using it and gets out to personally collect the little redhead so the Hargroves wouldn’t think that he was a pedophile baiting their daughter into his car with candy. 

He approaches the steps and hears what sounds like yelling and thumping. He wrinkles his nose and waits for a moment, debating on whether or not he should knock. He wasn’t sure if he should just leave and pretend he never came or wait. Just as his hand is about to collide with the door, it abruptly swings open and Max flies out. She runs into Steve and almost knocks him off the steps with her momentum. 

“Whoa,” he latches onto the railing and looks at her wide-eyed. She looks paler than usual, only throwing him a quick glance before passing him and going to sit in his car. He stands there for a moment, stunned by the speed of events occurring before him until he regains his composure and heads down the steps. 

Hearing one last bang, Steve turns around to look at the house. Brown eyes grow in horror as he hears a muffled yell just before seeing Billy’s body slam into the front window, leaving a trail of blood on the glass. Billy doesn't see Steve outside in the darkness, thankfully. But Steve sees Billy alright - blood dripping from his mouth as he reaches a hand up to touch his lip, fingers shaking. Steve backs away slowly as he watches Billy get grabbed and pulled away from the window, his expression full of fear.

Steve feels like his heart is about to beat completely out of his chest when he enters the BMW, and he doesn't really know what to say. He starts the car and looks over at Max, who is obviously on another planet, arms crossed and shaken. She doesn't appear to have been harmed, but she clearly knew what was happening in the Hargrove residence.

The silence during the ride to Lucas’ house is deadly and thick. Steve opens his mouth to say something multiple times, but nothing comes out. When he drops Max off at the Sinclair's, he smacks his head on his steering wheel repeatedly, unsure what to do about what he saw. The clear answer is to call the cops, maybe stop by Hopper's, but the last thing he wants to do is get killed by Billy when he finds out that it was Steve who called them.

He cups his hands around his mouth and breathes in heavily, on the verge of hyperventilating.   _ Shit shit shit shit _ . He wishes he had never answered the phone that night. He wishes he didn’t feel guilty about whatever was happening to Billy.

He lets out a deep sigh, disgusted at himself for even attempting to brush off what he’d seen. “What’s wrong with me? I’m pitying myself when I just watched someone else be assaulted in their own home?  Fuck!” He yells and throws the car into reverse, heading back to that damn house.

 

He pulls his vehicle off the side of the road and watches the Hargrove residence as if he was a rookie cop in a stakeout, just as he had done a few days ago at the school. The atmosphere is eerily quiet, and he selfishly considers going home and just ignoring every tiny bit of this situation.

_ This is risky shit, Steve, this isn’t your problem. Go home. It’s not your issue to deal with. It’s fine. Billy deserves - _

He stops himself. He corrects himself.

_ Billy deserves to have a good home life, because no one deserves to be hit, especially by a parent. _ He sighs and thinks back on the night that he dropped off Billy and his Camaro at his home, here, and how his father reacted. He didn’t even comment about the fact that Billy had blood all down his face, he had grabbed him so violently and been so overly angry. And Steve had done nothing about it. He hadn’t thought about it. But how could you just assume someone is being mistreated by the way their parent reacts when their child is home late?

Steve wheezes  as he gets out of his car, pushing the door closed quietly. He creeps up to the house, feeling extremely out of place being in someone else’s yard uninvited. He isn’t sure which room is Billy’s - he assumes it was the one where he had seen the assault earlier, but upon closer inspection he realises that that room is the living room. He ducks under the window and makes his rounds. 

“I sure hope I don’t accidentally see someone taking a shit or something…” he groans.

Steve stalks around the house  _ Rambo _ -style, stopping toward the back of the house and peers in a taller window. He sees Billy, sitting on the floor by his dresser with his face in his hands. He gets a twisted sense of deja vu thinking of Billy at the Byers’ the night of the gate shit and quickly tries to figure out how to handle this. Before he can decide, he sees Billy squinting, perhaps seeing something moving about outside his window. It’s definitely Steve, probably looking like a peeping Tom. Steve  feels queasy when he sees Billy’s face - his lip is split and his nose is gushing blood. He can’t help but feel a bit of sick satisfaction at the sight of it, his vengeful side feeling relief because of all of the times Billy had shoved him around or hit him.

Billy is opening the window now and Steve wishes he would have never came back. If he’d had more time, he probably would have escaped before Billy saw him. He tries to quickly gain his composure, putting his hand on his hip and he standing up straight. He feels like he could die of embarrassment the second that Billy opens the window.

Billy’s face scrunches up and he looks like he’s just seen a ghost. “What the fuck... Harrington!?” He whispers loudly, clearly completely baffled seeing his enemy in his yard so late at night. He quickly tries to wipe the blood from his face, but just ends up smearing it and making it worse in typical fashion. Steve wants so badly to take a goddamn cloth to it.

Steve furrows his brow. “Hi, Billy,” he shuffles stiffly.

Billy, quite frankly, looks dumb - he's clearly taken aback by Steve's presence, but he's still trying to keep his tough guy walls up by keeping his chin raised and subconsciously trying to turn it around to Steve. Which, to be fair, was valid because after all, it was Steve who was sneaking around outside his house in the middle of the night.

Billy looks around with an eyebrow raised. “What the hell are you doing here? You need to leave like, rightfuckingnow!” his voice is raspy and he’s obviously barely holding it together.

“Yeah, you're right. I wanna get the hell outta here but I'm not leaving without you. Come on,” Steve waves his hand toward himself, beckoning the other boy over. He never thought he’d see Billy Hargrove look so lost, and quite frankly, he wishes he never had seen it at all. Damn himself for being such a nice person and feeling the need to come back here. The blond boy looked like he was on the verge of a mental breakdown. “Billy, let’s go. You’re coming with me.” He steps closer to the window and reaches his hand out to the other.

Billy stares at him for a brief second before he snaps out of whatever sort of thoughts he might have been having about being compliant and opens the window a little wider, smacking Steve’s hand away. “I can help myself, dick,” 

Steve rolls his eyes. Alright, so be it. Billy swings a leg out and doubles back inside for his lighter and his cigarettes, shoving them in his chest pocket. Steve reaches out to brace Billy's jump but he just gets kicked out of the way. It was Steve’s own fault, he should have known that was stupid. Immediately regretting his choice, he bends over to tie his already perfectly tight shoelaces. He can hear Billy scoff at him before turning  around and trying to close his window as much as possible.

The walk back to the car is awkward as all hell, and the tension in the air is so thick that you could slice it with a knife. “Look, we don’t have to talk about it,” Steve sighs, leading Billy back to the road. 

“You’re damn right. And we’re not going to,” Billy jeers, his voice distant.

“That’s fine,” Steve stops and turns to see him paused a few steps back, lighting up a cigarette. The sight looks like some sort of obscure abstract painting - dried tears all down Billy’s cheeks, complimented by smeared crusty blood and the street light shining down above him.  Despite the hostilities and the fake tough boy facade, Billy has a fragility in his eyes - his posture sunken, looking so  _ defeated _ .

Billy makes a comment about Steve’s car being too classy for him and the atmosphere of the ride is no less strained than the walk back to it. Steve ignores Billy’s rude remarks about him being a rich boy as they pull up to his house. Before getting out of the vehicle, Billy hesitates. He turns to look at Steve, mouth stuck in a gentle frown and looking generally perplexed.

Steve doesn’t need to hear the words. “You’re welcome,” he says quietly, so quietly, and in that moment Steve feels pity overcoming him like a wave.

Putting out his third cigarette since they left the Hargrove residence, Billy looks at the Harrington house in awe. Steve waits for him at the door, leaning against the frame. He watches Billy carefully as they enter - he doesn’t say anything, but his eyes are that of a curious child, admiring expensive artworks on the walls and the fine furniture that fill the rooms. When they arrive to the guest room, Steve stops in the doorway, arms crossed.

“This is all you, bud,” he says as Billy brushes past him, spinning around slowly as if he was inhaling all of the room.

“Wow, this is nicer than -” he stops himself immediately and turns to look back at Steve, suddenly super interested in imaginary lint on his jeans and looking at the floor. “Where’s the bathroom? I need to take a shit.” 

Steve leads him to the closest restroom. Billy pauses, face falling when he sees his reflection in the mirror. He steps up to it, a forlorn look in his eyes. A feeling Steve can’t quite identify overwhelms his entire body. He hangs back, biting his nails as he watches Billy have some sort of moment with himself. He watches him for what feels like the most silent moment of his life - he stares as this boy who had threatened him, pushed him down, been so high and mighty since he had came to town just  _ feeling some shit. _

He squints, cocking his head, gawking at Billy as he runs  his finger across his lip. He’s boring into his own eyes via the mirror as if he doesn’t recognize himself. Steve can’t handle the bizarre experience anymore, exhaling and grabbing a washcloth from the shelf above the toilet. He puts his hand on Billy’s shoulder gently and he flinches, immediately tensing up.

“Look at me,” Steve murmurs, so softly that he can hardly even hear himself.

Billy closes his eyes and purses his lips, obviously discontent. Steve gently reaches out and touches Billy’s chin, turning his face towards his own. He pushes messy blond curls behind the other’s ear and runs the cloth under some warm water, eyes on Billy the entire time. Steve finds himself admiring Billy’s eyelashes - so light and so long. Pretty, really.

He half expects Billy to punch him, or shove him - but the assault never comes. Billy jerks at the sensation of the warmth on his busted lip, and his eyes flutter open deliberately and Steve feels like he’s seeing the entire ocean. Baby blues are wet with unshed tears as he tenderly slides the cloth against Billy’s skin. Billy is clearly trying to avoid eye contact, but he is no longer trying to hide his emotions in the moment. Steve wonders what could possibly be going through the other boy’s mind - because even he can’t stop his own thoughts from racing long enough to even think straight.

Never in a million years would Steve have thought that he would be tending to Billy Hargrove’s cuts and scrapes, and he thinks that Billy probably is thinking the exact same thing. The silence is deafening, only the sounds of shaky breaths and nervous foot tapping fills the room.

“Am I...hurting you at all?” Steve whispers, feeling like he needs to be quiet even though the house is empty.

Billy continues to avoid his eyes. “I’d be a little bitch if a rag caused me any pain, don’t you think?” 

Steve half-smiles. “Can you just be grateful for two seconds? Or is that too much to ask?”

Billy shifts away from Steve, tone changing. “You know he’s going to kick my ass when he finds out I left the house, don’t you?”

“I-I don’t know, Billy...then maybe you shouldn’t...go home?” 

Billy falters. “What?”

“Maybe  you should stay here…”

“He might go after Max or Susan...I can’t…” He starts to tremble, wiping his eyes and letting out a sigh. “Ugh...why did it have to be  _ you,  _ Harrington? Why did  _ you _ have to come for me…?”

Steve feels that comment pinch his nerves a little bit and he isn’t sure why. “Don’t do that, you prick. I couldn’t leave you there after what I saw,”

“What you...saw?”

“I picked up Max and I saw him slam you into the window, your own fucking father. Shit, Billy, I saw your fucking blood smear on the window! I watched it. How do you just let that happen, can’t you like, fight back or call the police or -”

Steve is interrupted by Billy’s hands suddenly grabbing his throat. “Do you think it’s that fucking simple, you pathetic worm?”

He slaps his arm away and places a hand on his neck, soothing the hot feeling where Billy’s hand had been., a sudden bout of aggression ready to explode out of him. “Oh, that’s it, isn’t it? Your daddy smacks you around so you get to be an asshole to other people?” He stands up, watching the anger boil into Billy’s eyes. “Your daddy hits you so you punch me?” He takes a step backwards. “Your daddy busts your lip so you break a fucking  _ plate over my head _ !?” Another step. “Your daddy calls you a name so you shove me to the ground?”

Billy rises, looking like a feral cat, expression burning with fury. Steve can’t believe the words came out of his mouth, but it’s too late - Billy is stalking towards him now. Steve feels like he’s watching the scene in slow motion - in one second Billy is on the floor of his bathroom looking like a lost puppy, and the next he’s coming after him with psychotic eyes. Steve breaks into a backwards run, cowering into his room and slamming the door. Billy’s just walking, not even jogging, but it’s definitely the most intimidating walk Steve had ever seen in his life.

“Come talk to me, Harrington,” Billy says flatly, knocking on the door three times. 

Steve puts both of his hands against the wood, “You’re insane,” he huffs.

He hears nothing on the other side of the door and breathes deeply.

In one swift motion, Billy kicks the door open and Steve stumbles backward. “What the  _ fuck _ !” He scrambles, backing up until he hits his bed and falls onto it. Billy stomps in and grabs Steve’s chin.

His thumb digs into Steve’s jawline, his crazy eyes just daring Steve to say something else. Steve cringes, encircling his hands around Billy’s thick arm. “If you hate me so much,  _ Steve _ ,” Steve. His name had never sounded so foul as it did in that moment, and boy, did Billy coat it with as much malice as he possibly could have. His name was a weapon. “why don’t you fight me back?”

He thought back to the night at the Byers’. Steve had gotten in a few punches, and Billy had just laughed. He cackled when Steve hit him, and now he knew why. It was hilarious to Billy, Steve’s aggression probably felt like a kindergartener throwing a fit because Steve didn’t hit Billy with hatred. After all, how could a punch from some kid you go to high school with hurt as much as a beating from someone who was supposed to be your hero? 

Steve felt hot tears swelling up behind his eyes. “I’m sorry Billy,” he let go of his captor’s arm, “I’m so sorry that your family is shitty. I’ll call Hopper tomorrow and we’ll -” Billy ripped his hand from Steve’s face and threw his arms down to his sides, pacing the room like a madman.

“Augghghhhh, I don’t  _ NEED THE COPS _ ! You...you should have never gotten involved in this Harrington! You’ve just made it all  _ WORSE!” _ He shoves his hands in his hair and pulls it back away from his face, “what the fuck do I do!? What do I do now that he...he’s gonna know that you know! What if he fucking kills you or somethin’...I just... _ FUCK!”  _ He stops suddenly and crouches, wrapping his arms around himself.. 

Steve scoots backward farther onto the bed and fiddles with his sleeves. He had no words - what could he even say? He decides to let Billy finish his episode. He watches him with genuine confusion until he finally releases a breath that looked like he’d been holding it in for awhile. 

“Fuck you, Harrington,” Billy stands, the normally shorter boy looming over him now. His shirt is half hanging off because he’s Billy and doesn’t know how to button them all the way and his hair looks like he just got back from a motorcycle ride and damn it if he still doesn’t have blood all over himself. Billy looks like he’s about to punch Steve in the face, but he stops himself and turns away, exiting the room.

One minute, this guy is a wild fucker who couldn’t be trusted as far as he could be thrown (which is not one single inch), and the next, he’s this fucking soft little kid who Steve felt like he needed to save. But is it really his business? He hates himself for going back to get Billy. He hates so much that he had seen what he saw, he hates that he has this knowledge, this secret that he’s going to have to share with this stupid  _ stupid  _ asshole. 

_ But how can I just keep this a secret? _

_ How can I let this boy go home to a house full of hatred and abuse? _

_ How can I live with myself if I just let it go? _

_ On the other hand, he’s survived this long, he’ll be okay. He’s tough. _

Steve’s brain felt like it was doused with gasoline and lit on fire like the tunnels of the mind flayer and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Finding out someone is getting assaulted in their own home is impossible enough all by itself, but having to deal with unpredictable Billy was an entirely different story. Steve had  _ definitely _ not signed up for this shit. Since when was having a hand in saving the world from demogorgons and a shadow monster feeling way more normal than handling an asshole bundle of nerves with a little earring?

What.

The.

Fuck.

As Billy is walking down the hallway, Steve rapidly gets up and taps on his shoulder. He hesitates, and whirling around looking furious at first but then immediately exhausted. “Fucking  _ what _ , Harrington? Will you just fucking leave me alone!?” 

Steve’s mouth hangs open - unsure how to answer. Because even he isn’t sure why he just won’t stop.

“You still have blood all over you, Billy,” he says.

Billy is unamused. “Do you really think I give a single fuck?”

“You’re in my house. Come on.”

“Are you serious? I didn’t ask for this, you fucking ass,” Billy starts to turn around again and Steve runs past him. Grabbing the wash cloth from the bathroom, he approaches again in an attempt to ambush the other. Billy can’t help but smirk as Steve is standing at the end of the hallway with the rag slung over his shoulder. “That’s a good look for you, Harrington,”

Steve catches on to his sarcasm and strikes a threatening pose he’d seen in a movie before walking slowly up to the blond. Billy rolls his eyes, unamused at Steve’s bid at trying to be tough. Steve touches the cloth to Billy’s chest. He sighs, Steve’s eyes flicking up to meet his every few seconds as he’s cleaning him up. Steve feels what he determines to be a little bit of a mix between nausea and fear, terrified that any second Billy is going to knock his lights out. But this time, the silence is surprisingly comfortable and when he finishes, Billy steps to the side of Steve and resumes his journey to the guest room without another word.

Throwing a glance back at Billy as he turns the other way, Steve sighs, not getting a look back in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is definitely lighter. Oops. Thank you for reading! Or if you just skimmed to the end and didn't read it, thanks for clicking! lmaooo


	3. Chapter 3

Billy is gone the next morning, and Steve is unsure if he even actually spent the night and just left early in the morning or not. The bed is made, but he can’t tell if it had been slept in or not. He frantically searches his house, trying to make sure that Billy isn’t just hiding out somewhere to give his parents a surprise later, but he doesn’t find him. He decides that it’s probably best for the both of them that he left.

Steve is late for his first period. He stops right outside the door, hand on the door knob, and decides against entering. He quickly walks back to his locker and puts all of his books away. He definitely isn't in the mood to deal with any sort of algebra today.

But how is Steve supposed to continue living his fucking life when he knows about Billy's abuse?? He feels a little bit of anger towards Billy, and Max, for that matter. And Max's mom. And Billy's  _ fucking dad _ . And himself. He's just _ pissed _ . These stupid people move to stupid Hawkins and keep screwing up Steve's stupid life.

He decides firmly that he needs to talk to someone about it. But he needs to talk to someone about it who will definitely not report it, because if it gets out, then Billy will probably kill Steve and then Billy might get killed. Who knows. He considers Dustin because he's really got no connection whatsoever to Billy, but he doesn't want to put that kind of stress on a young child, let alone one that would be worried sick about Max. Nancy is his next choice, but he's concerned she will give Billy her sad pitiful look in physics or whatever smart kid class they have together. Steve kicks his foot hard against the lockers in frustration, wincing in pain before heading to the library.

 

He dreads phy-ed. He dreads seeing Billy, because, well, he's Billy but definitely also because of the events of the previous night. He opens the door to the locker room quietly, well camouflaged by the clatter of teenage boys yelling and cursing and running around whipping each other with towels. He manages to change quickly and heads until the gym for instructions.

He watches Billy enter the gym, surrounded by his usual posse of assholes. They're clearly making jokes, and the jokes don't stop when Billy locks eyes with him from across the room. Steve is angry and he doesn't really know why, and he's afraid that this class isn't going to go well.

He's not wrong.

It's a badminton kind of  day, and three times in twenty minutes both Tommy and Billy have purposely served their birdies directly at Steve. The fourth time rolls around and Steve is  _ not _ playing any fucking games today.

He approaches Billy and yanks the racquet from his hands. He knows it shouldn't have been that easy and he feels sheepish when he realises Billy probably let him do it. “What the hell is your problem!?” His angry eyes dart between his assailants.

“Aw, Harrington, did you poop your pants?” Tommy calls out. He isn’t funny, and he’s the only one laughing at his stupid insult.

Billy ignores Tommy and gives Steve the look, the  _ fucking look _ he gives where his head is tilted back and he's looking at you like you're a conquest to him. Steve can't tell if he's feeling nauseous or pissed off or a little bit of both and the desire to punch Billy and his stupid eyelashes is almost overwhelming. The blond boy steps forward, getting right in his damn face, so close that Steve can see tiny little droplets of sweat forming on his brow. “A little  _ birdie _ told me a secret about you, Harrington,” he whispers.

Steve doesn't let him win. “Will you grow the fuck up and leave me alone?”

Billy puts a shocked look on his face, raising both eyebrows and looking over at Tommy, mocking offense. “Oh, he's yelling at me!” He starts to reach for racquet back, but Steve has had enough.

Steve doesn't realise what he's doing until the racquet is smashing Billy on the side of the head. Billy staggers and reaches his hand up to his face, frozen and half bent over from the impact. He just stands there for a minute - and Steve can feel the eyes of the entire class on him,  _ burning  _ into him. He looks around, and sure shit, 48 sets of eyes are on him.

“What in the name of God's creation!?” 48 including the teacher. He's stomping over at at a high speed. Steve drops his weapon and raises his hands in surrender, starting to mouth an  _ I'm so sorry _ , but he can't finish his sentiment because Billy has awoken from his temporary hibernation and kicks Steve in the back with all of his might. 

Steve quite literally flies face forward on to the floor, skidding to a stop. He rolls over immediately and grabs Billy's foot midair, hovering approximately two inches from his face. The teacher is screaming and trying to grab Billy and Tommy  is on his other arm but Billy is in full rage mode. Steve manages to bring his own leg up and kick the other boy straight between the legs and he doubles over in pain, allowing his restraints to take effect.

Tommy is laughing and the teacher is yelling and someone has gone and gotten the school officer and Steve is dreading the next hour of his life and he wishes he could just have never been born.

 

Billy laughs at the word.

_ Suspension _ .

It's a word he's probably heard many a time, but it's definitely not one Steve's ever heard in regards to himself. 

“Suspension? Seriously?”

“Would you prefer expulsion, Mr. Harrington?” 

Steve's jaw drops. “I kind of feel like that's a little far, if I'm being totally honest…”

Billy leans forward in his chair and rests his elbows on his knees, looking at the principal. “I think teach is right here, pretty boy, ya do the crime, ya do the time,” he turns his attention to Steve. “It's time we pop your punishment cherry.”

“Mr. Hargrove, completely inappropriate.” The principal taps his hand on the desk. He sighs. “A week for you, Billy, and 3 days for you, Steve.”

“A week for Billy?” Steve feels ill at the thought of Billy being at home with his dad for a full week. “He didn't even start it, I was the one who smacked him -”

“Thanks, bud, I'll see ya in a week,” Billy is already grabbing his bag and heading out the door. Steve panics, feeling like he should follow Billy and talk to him but also wants nothing to do with him.

The principal groans. “Will it make you feel better if you both get a week?”

“No,”

“Well, good. See you in a week then, Mr. Harrington.”

Steve sighs. “Seriously?” He starts to leave, but he hears the principal call his name.

“Steve, will you do me a favour and go ask Billy to come back? I need his telephone number,”

He can feel his stomach bile backing itself up. “A-actually, I know his number. My, uhm,” he hesitates, “little brother is close to his sister.”

“Oh, great, thanks,” the principal grabs a pen and his notepad.

 

Steve is out of breath by the time he gets to the parking lot. He watches Billy snuffing his cigarette out with his shoe and approaches quickly. 

“Harrington,” Billy twists his foot on the ground, completely desecrating the cigarette butt into Oblivion.  “Do you have a death wish?” he barks, glancing over his shoulder at Steve with hollow eyes.

“I gave him your dad's telephone number,” He bites his lip. “He asked me to get you, but I just gave it to him.”

Billy lets out a small laugh. “Wow, what a good fuckin’ samaritan you are, ain't ya?” He pauses, smirk fading from his face in sudden realisation.

“When they call tonight, I'll just tell them that you'll be punished and thank them and apologise for my son's erratic behavior,” Steve says with a matter-of-fact look on his face. 

Billy, dumbfounded, doesn't say anything as he watches Steve walk away.

 

Steve is reclined as far back as he can go in the chair in his living room, television blaring nonsensical cartoons in the background. A bowl of Cheerios accents his end table. It's ten in the morning, and Steve has been in the exact same position since six-thirty. He sits up and twirls the spoon in his soggy uneaten breakfast. He has no appetite but figured he should eat, but then he got distracted by absolutely nothing.

He's startled by a knock on the door. He considers leaving it, maybe it’s one of his parents’ friends - but they should know then that they would be at work. He wonders if maybe it's something to do with his suspension.

The second he turns the door handle, he's pushed aside by someone entering his house uninvited. 

Yep.  _ Entirely _ having to do with his suspension.

Billy makes himself right at home, throwing his jean jacket on the couch and heading to the fridge immediately, treading some sort of weird colored dirt all over the Harringtons’ white plush carpet.

“Yeah, come on in,” Steve throws his hands up in exasperation and follows his rude guest.

Steve immediately notes that Billy has clearly also been up for quite some time this morning. He looks well rested and quite frankly, well dressed. His hair is tame today, curls in check. Probably dropped Max off at school and then did literally anything but go home to fake out his dad.

“Well, Harrington,” he says as he pops opens a can of beer, “since this shit is your fault and I have until 3 to kill, we're gonna hang out.”

Steve starts to protest the beer, since it's not even lunchtime and drunk Billy is probably way worse than regular sober Billy, but holds out for a minute. “You couldn't have just gone  _ anywhere _  else but here?”

“Where am I gonna go in stupid shitty Hawkins? Where am I gonna go that someone isn't gonna recognise this,” he points at his head and drags his index finger along his entire body, “and tell my dad his hot son ain't been at school?”

Steve grabs the can of beer out of Billy's hand and sets it on the counter harshly. 

“Besides,” Billy continues, getting right in Steve's face and wrapping his hand around Steve's on the can, “I can't have my dad finding out I've been a naughty boy, can I?”

Steve’s insides get a little too warm and he immediately wriggles his hand free and travels to the other side if the kitchen, running his hands through his floppy hair. He throws his arms around in a weird motion, not knowing what to say.

“Am I supposed to feel bad for you?” He finally spits out. “You almost crushed my damn skull.”

Billy turns his cheek and taps it with two fingers. “You left a fucking pattern on my face, you fucking dick. Crushing your skull was only appropriate.”

Steve stares at him blankly with eyebrows raised, before a small laugh escapes him, and after clearly struggling, Billy gives in as well and smiles.

“What?” He crosses his arms. “This is funny to you?” He traces the squares on his cheek from the racquet.

Steve cracks up. He approaches Billy and leans in, squinting. “Oh my god, you're right, you can totally see it. Shit!” 

Billy purses his lips and cracks his knuckles, looking at his feet. The two stand together in a heavy silence before Steve realises he's practically chest bumping the guy. He goes to the fridge and stares absentmindedly in it, hoping to avert the awkwardness in the room. When he finally closes the door after what feels like an eternity, he sees Billy is gone and he suddenly can't catch his breath.

_ Oh god, he's probably trashing my shit _ .

Steve breaks into a jog and checks as many rooms as he can before he spots the other boy in the spare room laying down in the guest bed that he’d led him to the other day. He's on his side and facing out the window, looking like he's trying to take a nap.

Steve furrows his brow. It's always weird shit with Billy. Sometimes he's almost kind of nice and sometimes he's psychotic, and sometimes he's distant and sometimes he's strange. Steve doesn't feel particularly privileged to have this knowledge, or to be in the company of this maniac, but he is just tired of fighting. Exhausted. 

And so he lets Billy sleep, lets him have a tiny bit of peace for what he assumes is the first time in a long time. He hopes Billy sleeps calmly, hopefully deeply, and maybe he can wake up feeling better and a little bit rested - and that’ll just have to do to ease Steve’s conscience for a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, this'll be the end of the three chapters I've posted today. I'll need a little bit while i re-work the rest of it. I obviously have a ton left and I wanted to end it on a more positive note for right now but I gotta do some major editing before I post the next set. <3


	4. Chapter 4

The next two days go almost the same way, Billy comes over even earlier and goes straight to the guest bedroom to go back to sleep. Whenever Steve passes, he notes that Billy can't possibly be very comfortable, he has boots and jeans on and he's not even under the covers. Steve wakes him up at 2:45 and they leave at the same time and go pick up their respective kids. And Steve returns by himself. And the nights are lonely for him. Despite the fact that Billy just sleeps at his house, Steve feels a little bit better just knowing someone else is with him, under the same roof. He’d prefer it be someone else, but Billy will have to do.

Steve doesn't bother to tell his parents about his suspension, because they'll be gone for work again in the morning and there's no reason to cause an upset. He feels like he's in the room with two strangers, and he  _ hates _ it. He eyeballs them at the dinner table, suddenly hates them. Loathes them for everything wrong in his life - his anxiety, his lack of friends, and even though it isn’t directly their fault, he blames his parents. And he's not sure why, perhaps it was just their selective presence in his life, their general lack of relevance, or even their demeanor. They were people who truly felt like they were better than the rest of the world, better than the rest of the peons in Hawkins, including their own son.

As the evening drags on, Steve removes himself from the movie they're watching in the living room and just goes to bed angry, ignoring their shouts and questions - he knows they’ll assume he’s just a moody kid anyhow.

The next morning, Steve unlocks the door in preparation for Billy's arrival. He had a shitty night, so he decides to be a nice person today. He reaches for the milk and eggs and flour in the fridge and decides to make pancakes. He wonders if Billy likes blueberries or chocolate chips or whipped cream.

He hears the front door open and Steve poses with his spatula and a smile on his face, ready to surprise Billy with breakfast but when Billy trudges into the kitchen, Steve's heart falls. He has deep bags under his eyes, a cut on his chin and what looks like bruises all around his neck. The spatula falls to the floor, and Steve is suddenly wearing his emotions on his sleeve.

“What?” Billy spits, hanging up his jacket this time on the back of a dining chair. He pulls the chair out and puts his feet up on the table like a barbarian. Steve's mind is at war, he isn't sure whether or not he should address the elephant in the room or if he should just ignore it. If he brought it up, Billy would turn immediately hostile, but if he ignored it, would that not be brushing off a really serious problem? That it was just fine for a seventeen year old boy to be treated that way? To be strangled and punched by his father?

Steve's night didn't seem so shitty anymore.

He knew Billy could see right through him, he’s transparent as all hell. Billy stands back up and before Steve could even make a sound in opposition, he's sticking his dirty finger in the pancake batter and swirling it around before sticking it in his mouth. Added to the grievances list.

Steve’s sadness changes immediately to petty anger and disgust as he watches Billy enjoying the pancake mix a little too much, humming to himself. He finds himself staring at the other boy, glaring at his stupid finger down his stupid throat and his stupid eyelashes and -

Billy suddenly looks up and locks eyes with him and Steve's body temperature rises to 400 degrees in a New York minute. He is beginning to feel personally victimized by Billy’s fucking eyes.

“Whatcha looking at, Harrington?” Billy slobbers on his finger, eyes growing wide. Steve turns around in partial fear, almost hoping a demogorgon would be behind him to end his life, because it would definitely be less painful. He can’t look at Billy like that - all sloppy and disheveled.

After a moment, he sees Billy outside through the window above the sink, running towards his pool.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he sighs. It was like looking after a goddamn child. Steve runs after him. “Billy, what the fu-”

“Is this heated!? Holy shit, I haven't been swimming since we moved!” 

Steve stands and shrugs. “Yeah,” he mumbles, half-hoping Billy didn't hear him.

“Awesome,” Billy finishes unbuttoning the only three shirt buttons he ever has fastened. “It’s pretty cold out but this is awesome as fuck!” Steve starts to protest but silences himself as Billy tosses his shirt to the side of the pool. Purple and black patches cover Billy's back, and suddenly all the emotions Steve had washed himself of earlier came flooding back in at once. 

_ How could Billy be so nonchalant about everything going on in his life? _

_ How can he even keep up his front?  _

It was all so overwhelming.

Steve realises he's staring again when Billy waving at him breaks him out of his trance. “You coming, pretty boy? Or do I gotta throw your scrawny ass in myself?” Steve is overcome by a mysterious feeling of what he assumes is disgust when he looks at Billy - almost like he's taking offense by the other boy. He's just standing there, just fucking existing, all toned and blond and with his jeans unzipped and Steve is lame and he’s _ awkward _ .

He immediately holds up his hands in a poor attempt at defense as Billy starts to charge at him, grabbing first his shoulders and then upon Steve's resistance, his waist. Steve feels alone for a moment, and he thinks of last year when he was with Nancy. He remembers the first night they were intimate and how Tommy and Carol and Nancy and Steve had all swam together all in the wake of Barb's death. 

The feeling of remembrance is lost upon him as Billy softens his grasp. “Are you there, Harrington?” His strong hands are on Steve's hips and suddenly he takes in the fact that he's being held by someone else and it’s  _ weird _ . This guy who he hated a week ago was acting like they were best friends, and he feels oddly content.

“Yeah, Billy, I'm here, sure,” Steve whispers and circles his fingers against his temples, trying to get rid of the headache flooding his entire skull. Stupid. Stupid  _ stupid. _ Steve knows  he’s an idiot for even being nice to Billy - he’s nothing but a dick one minute and then he acts like they’ve been pals for years. And Steve lets him do it. It’s dumb and he is mad at himself for it but he’s so lonely, quite frankly, he’d take  _ anyone _ being nice to him, as pathetic as that is.

Billy steps back from Steve, tugging at his shirt a little bit. “Are you gonna take this off?” he makes a face. “Uh, like, are we gonna swim? Or am I goin’ in alone?” He turns away from Steve and finishes taking off his jeans.

Steve feels his cheeks get hot at the sight of Billy in his boxers and he doesn't know why. He hits his palm against his forehead, furrowing his brow. He's seen the guy completely naked in the showers, but he hates the idea of this prick being nearly nude in his private pool.

He bites his lip and pulls off his shirt, watching Billy cannonball into the deep end. He hesitates before taking off his pajama pants, but when he sees Billy pop back up out of the water he decides to go for it. Make the best out of a shitty situation right? At least he might have fun before Billy inevitably smacks him around later.

Billy chuckles loudly. “Come on, wimp! The ocean’s fine!” He pretends to make a surfing motion and falls over under the water dramatically. 

Steve can't help but smile a little bit as he walks slowly towards the water. He stops when he doesn't see Billy. “Where did-” 

When Steve turns around he sees Billy running dangerously fast toward him, grinning broadly. He reaches his arms out but before Steve can properly react, Billy's body collides with his own, tackling him into the water.

And the world is standing still.

Steve opens his eyes underwater almost in a panic, but when he does, he sees Billy, arms outstretched and gripping his own just tight enough. And he’s weightless. He reaches a hand out to touch Billy's hair, flowing out around him, looking green from the pool light. Billy is smiling at him, a smile that Steve deems worth a million bucks because it's a smile that is so rarely genuine and overall it's just a damn nice smile. Steve's hand brushes Billy's cheek and lands on his shoulder and in that moment, he's not alone anymore. He's not lost. He feels like he has a friend - even if he’s lying to himself.

They were both currently suspended from school for literally assaulting each other, but maybe Billy is getting better. Maybe. And Steve maybe could have a friend. Wanting to punch a friend in the face sometimes is normal, right? He decides to not question it, even though he knows that Billy doesn’t like him and Steve is pretending that he actually has someone to have his back because he’s a screwball - he’s pretending that everything is okay for awhile. And he thinks that maybe Billy needs that a little bit too.

Steve surfaces, running his hands over his hair, pulling it out of his face. Billy comes up next, whipping his head back, his hair flying all around him and dropping down in little ringlets.

“Never thought I'd be swimming so close to winter,” Steve shivers, wading to the shallow end. Billy follows him, sinking down to his nose in the water. 

“Shoulda planted your feet, loser.”

Steve feels good right now, save for being a tiny bit chilled. He leans up against the pool wall and hoists himself up, legs dangling. Billy stands up and shakes his hair out like a dog. Steve wraps his arms around his torso self consciously, feeling extremely exposed and quite frankly, puny and pale compared to the ripped California boy standing across from him. 

Billy skims the water with his palm. “Look, Harrington. I know I’m a dick and I'm not good at this shit but-”

“You're welcome,” Steve half-smiles.

Billy wrinkles his nose. “How do you do that?”

“What?”

“Know what I'm gonna say and shit. All the time. You always do,” He approaches and places his hands on Steve's knees. Steve is thoroughly convinced that this guy doesn't know the meaning of personal space. 

“You're actually pretty predictable, for a jerk,”

“And you're just really pretty,”

Steve feels his blood boiling.  _ What _ ? Billy runs his tongue over his teeth in the bizarre way that Billy does and jumps up onto the side of the pool with ease. Steve stares at the waves made  from Billy exiting the water.

“I'm feeling those pancakes, I think, Harrington.” He hears the patio door opening and figures he should grab towels, because Billy probably fucking didn't. “Get your ass in here and cook for your guest, fucking jerk.”

He runs in after him. “Could you at least wipe down? Shit, my parents are gonna be home tonight and I don't want to deal with cleaning up after your messy ass,” Steve throws a towel at him.

Billy makes a face. “Oh ho ho, what's gotten your dingle in a tingle?” He twists his towel up and tries to smack Steve with it as he grabs the pancake mix and turns the stove on.

“Fuck you Billy,” Steve is annoyed, and maybe he takes back what he said about having someone even if it’s Billy. The blond boy mocks Steve and sits down at the counter across from him. “So what do you like?”

“I'm a sucker for brunettes,” Billy grabs a blueberry and pops it in his mouth.

Steve has no expression. “For your damn pancakes, you dipshit. I have chocolate chips too. Or you could just have them plain, I really don't care. Just please don't make this fucking difficult.”

Billy pushes the carton of blueberries towards Steve. “These,” is all he says, grabbing another handful of the tiny things.

Steve give him his best motherly look of disapproval and dumps the rest of the container into the bowl. The two sit in silence while the pancakes cook, Steve leaning up against the counter with his arms folded and Billy picking his teeth, twirling his hair, tapping his feet.

Wiping a washcloth across the counter, Steve eyes Billy suspiciously. He hates it when he's quiet, he always feels like he's planning something devious or sinister. He no longer feels like this guy's his mortal enemy, but he really feels on edge around him. Billy's an unpredictable sociopath. It's like he doesn't feel any sort of empathy with the shit he does wrong, or the things he says to people. He just doesn't think. Or maybe he doesn’t care.

His train of thought is interrupted by Billy trying to grab the can of Reddi-Wip on the opposite side of the counter without getting up. Steve is disgusted at the fact that Billy's bare chest, still damp with chlorine, is sliding across his freshly cleaned surface but he's ignoring it because it's a little comical seeing him struggle.

He turns his attention to the stove, flipping the pancakes. He checks them one last time before putting Billy's on a plate and serving it to him. Steve grabs the bag of chocolate chips and sprinkles some on top of his own plate and makes his way to the table. He passes Billy, who's putting a mountain of whipped cream on his breakfast, and then some on his fork to just eat.

The only time Steve will ever excuse Billy's weird tongue motions is this exact minute, in the seconds before Billy dives in and devours his pancakes. He's so ravenous that Steve wonders if he's been eating at all, and if so, an appropriate amount. 

Billy finishes before Steve even has two bites down and puts his plate in the sink less than gracefully. He can feel Billy's presence behind him. He throws a glance over his shoulder to see Billy's face about two inches from his own. 

In one swift motion, Billy's arm appears with the can of whipped cream, pointing it at Steve. “Prepare for your death, heathen!” he shouts, pressing a single dollop on Steve's nose and then runs halfway across the room.

“What are you, fucking twelve!?” Steve drops his silverware and angrily stomps over to the other.

Billy's playing ball now, he's in a defensive position and clearly will not give up the whipped topping without a fight. 

Heavens forbid that Steve isn't always dealing with small children. He can’t just leave him with a weapon like that - it’s too dangerous. He rushes Billy, clawing at him for the can. But he's too fast as usual. He's too strong, as usual. And for the love of God, Steve still has the whipped cream on his nose. Billy's clearly having a ball, laughing louder than Steve's ever heard him laugh. The fight in Steve fades when he realizes he'll never get the stupid can, and besides, his stupid underwear is sticking to him in weird places, still wet from the pool. 

Billy taunts him, waving the can around and spraying half of it's contents in his mouth.”Oh, really? You’re gonna waste it all? And what if my mom wants some fucking dessert or something after she gets home tonight, huh?”

“Do I look like I give a fuck, Harrington?” He sighs and steps forward, holding out his prize in a truce.

Steve stares first at the can in Billy's hand, then shifts his glance to his eyes. He's probably walking into a trap, but he can't tell because the amount of deceit on Billy's face is pretty on par with the norm.

He reaches for it from a distance. “Nuh uh, Stevie, ya gotta come get it,” Billy hisses, and Steve gets chills. He isn't sure if it's from the fear of getting assaulted or if it's because Billy Hargrove just used his real name (well, a form of it) to address him. He abhors it.

Steve gives him a look of defeat. “Will you seriously just stop? This is so dumb.” He throws his hands down and goes to grab the can. When he's close enough, Billy pulls the can back and advances on the whipped cream still all over Steve's nose.

He immediately pushes the cackling Billy away from him. “Dude!”

“What?” He licks his lips and wipes his mouth. “Can't get your momma's carpet all dirty.”

“You just like, ate my nose! So weird!” Steve rushes back into the kitchen to grab a napkin. “Literally, your whole mouth was on my face,” Steve mumbles to himself, dabbing his face shakily.

Billy sets the can on the counter, demeanor immediately changing. “Get over yourself Harrington,” he puts a hand on his hip. “It was fucking funny.”

Steve turns to look at him, pointing a finger accusingly. “No,  _ you _ get over  _ your damn self _ . I let you come into my house and all you do is make a mess of it.” He rounds the counter and gets right up in Billy's face. “Fuck you, Billy,” he spits, and suddenly Billy is laughing again. He's laughing so hard tears are forming in his eyes. “What, you think everything is a fucking joke!?”

He pokes Billy sharply in the chest and Billy puts his hands up.“Harrington, I think you need to... back up a little bit,” he chuckles. “Your uh,  _ friend _ is touching my leg.”

Steve slowly looks down at his boxers.

_ Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod _ .

He knocks into Billy as he dashes up to his room. He can hear Billy laughing audibly from literally all the way across the house.

 

Steve's entire life is flashing before his eyes. He feels nauseated and anxious and scared and awkward and embarrassed. He quickly takes off his boxers and throws them across the room. “Fuck!!!” He screams and kicks a pile of dirty clothes on the floor.

 

Quite frankly, he's never been more mortified in his entire life. He grabs a new pair of underwear and works himself into his jeans and  _ ohmygod _ Billy is still in his house. How is he going to -

The door swings open, and now is actually the worst time ever to remember that it doesn't close anymore since Billy fucking Hargrove kicked it in the other night. “Thought I'd find you here,” he drags his tongue across his teeth and Steve wants to disappear.

He stalks over to Steve and Steve feels like he can't breathe and he's reminded of the night he brought Billy here and he's  _ scared of Billy _ and he feels his stomach contents ready to exit his body. Billy thumps him in the chest and forces him to sit on the edge of his own bed. Steve feels himself shaking and Billy bends over and puts his hands on Steve's knees, crouching down in front of him.

“Let's talk for a second,” Steve croaks.

Billy raises an eyebrow. “That's what I'm here for,”

Steves heart drops. “W-what?” 

“You can go ahead. I know you're having a really hard time about Nancy and super-geek, so I'm here, go ahead.” 

Is this a sick joke? Is he really trying to be a supportive friend _right now_? And he wants to talk about  _ Nancy _ ??

“Billy...ugh, look...”

Billy frowns angrily. “No, you look, you dick, this shit is new to me. I'm trying to be a good person and -”

Steve slams his hands on his thighs. “No, Billy, fuck off. You're not a good person and I don't want you to pity me or whatever it is that you're doing! Just shut up, honestly. If I'm gonna talk to anyone it sure as hell is not gonna be you.” He stands up and storms over to his closet to grab a couple shirts. “My jeans won't fit you but this shirt is a little bit baggy on me, so it should be fine,” he mumbles and throws the clothing aggressively at Billy.

The blond boy stands up and grabs the shirt. “Fucking Prince,” he pulls the shirt on and it's way too tight and he's clearly not having it. “I hate Prince. This shit looks like it's literally painted on my skin. Jesus, this is baggy on you? You're even more of a fucking twig than I thought.” Billy runs his hands along his abs and fluffs his damp hair in the mirror.

“Am I supposed to say sorry right now?”

Billy turns to Steve. “You know what?” He walks slowly over. “I'm getting tired of your fucking attitude,” and with the last word he shoves Steve to the ground. He lands hard and hits his head a little, but the carpet cushions his fall. Laying there, he watches Billy upside down, wearing a shirt that he makes look like it came from the children's aisle and boxers, leaving his room and stalking down the hallway. A minute or so later he hears the front door slam and he doesn’t even feel any sort of relief. 

“FUCK!” He hollers, ripping at his hair. A great way to start off his fucking day - that's what he gets for trying to make friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A W K W A R D, #PRAYERSFORSTEVEHARRINGTON


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I just noticed that I forgot to include a tiny bit in the last chapter, so I'm separating it from the rest of this stuff in here. Sorry!!

Steve sits alone for the rest of the godforsaken day until his mother gets home at five. She questions him about the mess he didn't clean up in the sink and the jacket that Billy had forgotten on the chair. Steve insists that he's had it for a long time and she's convinced but she isn't dumb and thinks he skipped school and he gets grounded. Getting grounded for skipping a day of school was better than getting murdered for getting suspended for starting a fight.

His father is home shortly after her and Steve gets grilled for the exact same shit for the second time that evening and he spends the rest of his night in his room staring at the ceiling.

 

* * *

 

Today is Friday and Steve's parents are home so he has to leave to pretend to go to school and he doesn't know where to go because Billy was right, there isn't a whole lot to do in “shitty Hawkins” and the last thing he wants is to have one of his parents’ friends see him. 

He ends up not bringing Dustin to school. Instead, they go to the store, sneaking around buying snacks and talking about everything under the sun. Dustin thinks they're pretending to be secret agents so he's satisfied as Steve pokes his head around the corner to make sure he doesn't know anyone around - never mind the fact that he was with a young kid so they clearly should have been at school.

“It’s over here,” The two boys take a stroll down the hair care aisle.

“Oh my god, there it is. It’s real,” Dustin reaches his hands out toward the can of Farrah Fawcett spray. He turns to shoot Steve a look. “I can’t believe you use this shit.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Alright, buddy, I’m not here to listen to your insults. Let’s get it and go, before anyone sees us with it.”

They arrive to Dustin’s house and Steve carries the bags, one with the spray and some cologne and the other with a bag of popcorn, some pretzels and some corn chips. “Where do you want these?” Steve asks.

“...Well, I want to eat them all, so in my room, obviously,”

Steve contemplates for a second before nodding. “Fair,”

 

Steve reaches for the spray. “Alright, little man, stand in front of the mirror and let me show you how the magic is done.” 

He shows Dustin how he does his own hair, and walks him through each individual step. He skips the blow-drying step since Dustin’s hair is super fucking curly, but it looks great nonetheless.

“ _ Now _ , my brother, you are going to attract a lot of attention for actually doing your hair. So make sure you do it on an important date,” Steve fluffs his hand in the back of Dustin’s hair.

“Snowball,” He says, nodding and looking up at Steve with an excited look.

“Snowball,” Steve agrees, admiring his work.

 

They polish off the popcorn and made a significant dent in the pretzels and corn chips. “So aren't you going to get in trouble for skipping school today?” Dustin asks.

Steve gives him a disappointed look. “Well, aren't you?”

“No, my mom won't find out.”

Steve flashes a toothy grin. “Exactly.” He leaves out the bit about how he wasn't allowed to even be at school today.

“So how's life been? We don't get to talk much during the car rides. It's nice to see you, pal.” Dustin shovels three pretzels in his mouth.

“Uh,” Steve hesitates , thinking about his extremely terrible experience with Billy at his house. “It's been okay. I've just been busy.”

“Busy? You?”

Steve casts him an icy glare. “Alright, dick,” he playfully shoves Dustin. “Yes, busy.” Busy sitting at home, rotting into his recliner and busy dealing with Billy Hargrove's bullshit.

“Well okay. I've been trying really hard to beat Max’s score at the arcade, but I don't think I'm ever going to. She's pretty rad.”

“Yeah, she seems really nice.”

“I feel so bad that her brother is such a jerk. Remember when he hit on you?”

_ "And you're just really pretty." _

“W-what?” Steve swallows a full corn chip, choking as the sharp edges scrape his throat.

“Whoa, are you okay?!” Dustin smacks him hard in the back before laughing. “Like, when he  smashed your face in.”

Oh.

“Uh, yeah, actually, I do remember that. Fucking thanks, you prick.”

Dustin giggles and they start talking about dungeons and dragons and it all goes over Steve's head but just having someone else's company is nice.

When he leaves the Henderson’s house to go home, he sits in his car for a few minutes and feels pretty shitty about his life. His only friend was a fucking junior high schooler. He pulls his favourite “depressing music” cassette out from underneath his seat and starts it off with “Walk Away Renee”. 

He wallows in his pity before driving home, kind of wishing he could just floor it off the cliff into the quarry - but he's too much of a chicken shit.

  
  


Billy was  _ maybe _ going to have a good night before his bitch little step-demon ruined it for him. He sees her getting ready for her stupid little twerp dance, her mom doing her hair. He hasn’t forgotten their agreement. He leaves her dumb friends alone. It’s not like he gives two shits about them anyway. And also, everything he had done to bother her lame group was because he was going to be getting a beatdown from his fucking father if he didn’t.

_ ‘Oh, where’s Max? You don’t know? Why aren’t you watching her despite the fact that she’s old enough to take care of herself? Here, having a fucking smack.’ _

And Max knew. He wishes so much that he could just explain to someone,  _ anyone _ why he hates Max. Hates Susan. They watch him as he gets hit, as the blood pours from his wounds, as his father’s fist collides with his jaw. They watch, they see, and they do nothing. Max continues to disobey her mother and Neil, and Billy gets the grunt of the yelling. And  _ he _ gets beaten for it.

Every time he sees Max he wants to wring her stupid neck for letting it happen to him. For leaving the house and telling no one where she’s going. For having to look for her and skip out on his own free time. Because every single time she tries to disobey the curfews she has, Billy gets a fist to the face.

He seethes with rage after he passes them, Susan making her all pretty for her dance while he’s supposed to be going to a party. Max had purposely told Neil about the party out of spite to try to ruin his night. Neil, of course, verbally assaulted him before shoving him and laughing at the fact that Billy thought that he would be having a decent evening.

Billy puts on his jean jacket and grabs a bottle of beer from the fridge. He wraps his hand in his sleeve, popping it open. He takes a sip with no expression, listening to Susan yelling to Neil that she’s going to drop Max off. Billy sighs and fishes his keys out of his pocket. Anywhere but here would be well worth the havoc that was sure to ensue later. He grabs the cardboard six pack box that the beer bottles are in and heads out to his car. If Neil is yelling for him, he’s blacked it out as the Camaro roars to life. 

There aren’t a whole lot of places in Hawkins that are cool whatsoever, so when Billy had discovered the path that leads to a hill overlooking the town a couple of months back, he had felt truly blessed. It really was off the beaten path, technically not even in Hawkins, the little road was actually a hidden driveway surrounded by trees and Billy liked it that way. He pulls up the hill and throws the his car into park. 

He pulls out a cigarette and grabs his beer. Walking over to the edge of the cliff, he peers down, trees not far below but a little haunting nonetheless. He smacks his lips together and wonders what would happen if he jumped. Neil certainly wouldn’t give a shit. Or Susan. Or Max. Tommy might. But only because he’d be a nobody if Billy didn’t talk to him.

He sticks his foot out over the edge, feeling slightly woozy at the sight of it but not caring. He swings it around recklessly, taking a swig of his beer and feeling ever so light.

Billy is startled by the distant sound of wheels on dirt, and wonders if someone is coming up the path. He turns around and walks back to his car, thinking that it was probably that police chief that’s always ruining all of his mischievous fun.

A familiar looking BMW pulls up a little ways back from Billy and his car but it’s not until Steve gets out that Billy lets a long sigh loose.

“Figures of all fuckin’ people, it’d be you, Harrington,” Billy quickly chugs the rest of his beer.

Steve shrugs. “I guess it doesn’t surprise me that you’re here,”

“What is that supposed to mean, huh?”

“You told me that this was your spot,”

Billy is taken aback. When did he tell Harrington that? For the life of him, he can’t fucking remember and it pisses him off. “Whatever, why are you here?”

The brunette approaches and leans against the hood of the Camaro. “I guess I just felt really lonely,”

Billy scoffs. “What, dropped your little brat off at the dance and needed a good place to get wasted alone?”

“I’ll give you that, you’re half right.” Steve pulls out a cigarette from the pack sitting in Billy's chest pocket and lights it, taking a puff. “I don’t really have any friends to talk to, so I figured I might come here and just maybe luck would be on my side and you'd be here.”

Billy raises an eyebrow. “You  _ wanted _ to run into me?” He follows suit and joins Steve back at the hood of the car. “You just want me to kick your ass again.”

Steve half-smiles. “Maybe I deserve it,”

“Yeah, you kinda do.” Billy looks out over the town. “You’re an asshole, Harrington,” 

“I know, I was a dick, but I’m here to make it up to you.”

“How so?” A sly grin spreads across Billy’s face. There really aren’t a whole lot of ways to make up for what he did - because he really didn't do anything besides tell Billy he isn't a good person. And realistically it's not like he didn't already know that, but he’s gonna let Steve try. Whatever helps the poor prick sleep at night. 

Steve reaches across Billy to the beer in his hand. “By being your drinking partner,” He doesn’t let go and Steve’s retrieval of the beverage turns Billy's body slightly sideways. “Can’t have you making bad choices out here alone.”

Billy rolls his eyes. “You’re a sucker for the supportive friend act, aren’t you? And don't you have to drive  a child home later?” He rips the bottle back from Steve. He leans the bottle against his tongue.

“Nah, I’m a sucker for the ‘dick apologises for being a jerk about someone wanting to  be a friend’ trope.” he hesitates. “Yeah, I do, but I'm okay. I'll be okay. It's like a block.”

Billy rolls his eyes. “You’re right, you did get pissed when I tried to be nice to you,” Billy leans his head back.

Steve closes his eyes. “Ugh...you’re right. I know,” The two pass the bottle back and forth. “I'm gonna be cheesy here for a second because for whatever reason I feel like I owe it to you.”

“You really dont-”

“Just shut up, okay? Let me do this.” Steve says firmly.

Billy raises his hands in defeat and leans back against the hood of the car, arms folded.

“This is gonna sound so dumb,” Steve mumbles and rubs his forehead. “...But I'm grateful for you. Just a few weeks ago you were beating me up like, all the time, and quite frankly I still don't get why.”

“Harrington -”

“Billy, fucking stop. I don't want you to say a single word until I'm done, okay?”

Billy inhales sharply, biting his tongue. “Mhmm,”

“Okay. Well. I hated you. I still hate you, you fucking dick. But you, the guy who also probably hates me and wants to kill me and takes every opportunity to punch me or shove me, you have actually made me feel like I have a friend for the past few days. Even if it's just you coming to my house and  _ sleeping,  _ fuck, I'm not alone in that big empty place.”

Steve is queasy saying these things, and he kind of regrets telling Billy to shut up. There's a bit of an awkward silence for a minute.

“And you made me realise how lonely I really am. For fucks sake, Billy, my only friends are a junior high schooler, my ex girlfriend and the guy who stole her from me!”

Billy snorts and reaches up to cover his face, clearly trying to hide his laugh.

“Real cute,” Steve lightly punches his arm. “I'm serious. And I know you'd never call me a friend to you but I just wanted to thank you for making me feel like I had one for a little while...and I'm kind of sad that soon we'll have to go back to school and I won't…” he hesitates. “I won't get to see you as much. Like, in my house. With me.”

Billy turns to look at him and mimics a zipper across his lips.

“Oh my god, you freak, you can speak now,”

They both laugh awkwardly and Billy smirks. “Aw, Harrington, what's next, are you gonna give me flowers and a serenade?” 

Steve rolls his eyes. “Sentiment clearly averted, thanks buddy.”

Billy bites his lip and kicks around some stones at his feet. He scoots back on the hood and sits, crossing his legs. “I suppose I could be a team player sometimes, huh?” He suddenly grabs Steve's chin and turns it towards him. “None of what I'm about to say ever escapes those lips of yours.”

Steve's eyes go wide and he nods rapidly.

Billy exhales sharply. “Alright. Well, truth is, I actually really  _ don't  _ hate you. I'm just...dumb. I don't know. I can't really explain the shit I do sometimes. And I wish I had a reason or an excuse but I dont,” He traces circles on the hood of his Camaro, “I guess I just.. felt like I needed to make a good impression here. And it was stupid. Stupid to start all this shit with you but Max, man, she gets me in trouble at home and-”

The color washes from Steve's face. “The night at the Byers'...you were sent to look for her, weren't you?”

Billy nods, turning his attention away from Steve. “I needed to find her and there you were, Harrington. Fucking… hiding that little brat. And I got pissed. I don't have an excuse but I was just fucking mad.” He smiles faintly. “You insulted me though, remember that?”

“All I remember is getting beaten unconscious…” Steve says plainly, and Billy turns to him with a nervous look on his face. When he sees that Steve is joking, he releases a breath.

“Hey, uh, by the way,” he mumbles. “...How did I get home that night?” Billy watches Steve tense up at the mention.

_ What was he supposed to say? Yeah, we knocked you out and then your sister you hate so much stole your car, drove it to a field and we helped avert an otherworldly crisis. _

“I...I drove you home in your car,”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, did you have to carry me? Jesus…”

“No, no I didn't. You were like...half conscious. Kind of like you were drunk,” Billy grimaces. “I pulled up and your dad came out all pissed off because he thought you'd been drinking.”

Billy nods slowly. He remembers feeling very awake as his father's fist collided with his jaw that night, Max sitting in the next room over all tucked nicely into bed after leaving home and ruining Billy's date night. 

“Thanks for doing that, Harrington. I wish I'd just told my dad to screw off and to go find max himself. Uh, I mean, not that i wanted it to be him there instead of me...but um, maybe you wouldn't have those scars now if it had been…” he runs a finger over where a cut has been healing it's way permanently on to Steve's cheek.

Steve's eyes are deep and dark, full of mystery and trust simultaneously. Billy clenches his jaw and shifts his focus to his shirt, picking imaginary lint off of it.

“Hey,” Steve says softly, and waits for Billy to look up and at him. “Don't worry, it's alright. I'm okay, and you're okay.” he reaches his hand out and Billy grips it firmly.

They both pause for a moment. “I need a fucking drink,” Billy mumbles and hoists himself off the car and grabs two more bottles from the box he's got in his passenger seat. “For the Knight in shining armor.” He hands one to Steve, who grins sheepishly.

“Sooo….did I do anything embarrassing when I was out of my mind?”

“When you were all weird at the Byers' house?” Steve takes a big sip. “Yeah, you uh, basically made me climb on your lap to get your keys when you had them hidden the entire time.” He purses his lips.

Billy chokes on his beer. “What?!” 

“Yeah, you were like…” he turns to Billy and leans over his knees reluctantly, turning his face so they're inches apart. “‘They're over here, pretty boy,’” Steve says with a growl. He makes sure to breathe heavily right in Billy's face for added effect.

Billy bites his lip to hide a chuckle. “With my beer breath right in your face?” 

Steve pushes his hand against Billy's cheek. “Fuck you, no,” he scrambles to sit back up and Billy swears there's a little more pink in the other boy's cheeks than there was a few minutes ago.

Billy laughs. “I can't believe I did that. I'm uh... I'm sorry,”

Steve gives him a dirty look. “But are you really? You traumatized me,”

“Yeah right, Harrington!” Billy exclaims, hands on his knees. “I see that blush right now,”

Steve's eyes go wide and he reaches his hand up to rub his nose. “Do you know when snowball is over?”

Billy takes note of the sudden subject change. “I think like ten, maybe,” 

Steve checks his watch. “ Well it's 9:05 now,” he looks up at Billy. “So we got like 45 minutes or so.”

“Okay,” Billy replies. A silence hangs over them for a minute. “How do you wanna pass the time?”

“Well, I might just go and -” 

Billy puts his hand over Steve's, preventing him from getting up. “Go and what? Sit in the car like a dork waiting for the dance to get done?” 

Billy definitely isn't wrong, but Steve hates being called out for his anxious tendencies regardless.

“I...guess you're right. I probably would. What do you have in mind?” he asks cautiously.

Billy shrugs. He fumbles with his earring and sticks his tongue out a little bit. “Let's play a game,” he raises his eyebrows at the other boy. Time to learn a little bit about Steve. They really don't know each other well at all, and Billy has just enough alcohol in his system to be feeling a little like an open book. 

“A game? Like…?” 

“Hmm...I don't know. I wanna know your deepest secrets, Harrington. Truth or truth?”

“Truth or truth?” Steve chuckles. “Hmm...I'll go with truth.”

Billy turns to Steve, both of them sitting on the hood of the car, pretzel-legged. “What is your favourite song?” 

Steve cocks an eyebrow. “Starting off weak, huh? I was expecting you to go for the jugular right away.” he puts his hands behind his head. “Hmm...it changes. I think right now, maybe ‘Words’ by the Bee Gees.”

Billy's jaw drops. “First Prince, now the  _ Bee Gees,  _ Harrington!?” 

“What!? You can't just poke fun at me for liking the Bee Gees! They're  one of the greatest groups of all time!” 

“Say that exact same sentence to me again, except put Led Zeppelin in there. That's a true statement.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Whatever. If you could have any superpowers, what would you choose?” 

“Easy. I'd wanna fly. Can you imagine how amazing it'd be to just soar above the city, wind through your hair? Shit,” He puts a hand to his forehead to mimic looking out over the horizon.

Steve grins. “You're right, that would be pretty amazing…” he flicks his eyes from Billy's legs to his face. “Your go,”

“Alright...hmm,” Billy twiddles his thumbs. “What’s your ideal Saturday night like?”

Steve sneers. “You’re gonna make fun of me, don’t ask me that,”

“You think so? You underestimate me, Harrington,” Billy crosses his arms cockily.

Steve puts his hand on his chin and contemplates how he wants to answer. “Alright, well maybe...I don’t know, I like to watch movies so maybe just hanging out at home watching a movie or putting on a record or just laying around and talking or something. Not anything too fancy. If someone’s over, someone’s over. If I’m alone, which I usually am, I’m just alone. Maybe make cookies or something. I don’t know,”

“You’re not the big party animal everyone thinks you are, huh?”

“Did you miss the part where I told you I have no friends, idiot?”

Billy scoots off the car. “Come on,” He reaches his hand out for Steve.

“What? What are we doing?”

“We’re going to go to your house and make cookies,” He says, bounding playfully over to his car. “I’ll meet you there at like what, 10:30? That’ll give you time to drop your little dweeb off at home,”

“Billy, it’s late already and I should probably go to bed, I-”

“Shut the fuck up, Harrington, you’re being lame. Stop making excuses. I’ll see you later,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this house, we do stereotypical coincidences in our fanfiction, thanks for noticing. lmaooo.  
> Anyways, on a serious note - I've been getting a lot of feedback both on here and on tumblr and I literally cannot even believe it. That's so amazing, I never would have thought that anyone would read this whatsoever and to hear that people like it blows my mind. Thank you so much!! <3


	6. Chapter 6

Billy knows that he’s going to get to Steve’s house way before he will, so he makes a stop at the gas station and gets them a two liter bottle of Coke. He drives around the block a few times until he sees Steve’s car there, so he parks and has an internal crisis trying to decide whether he should go to the front door or sneak around back.

Door. Obviously, duh. This isn’t a sleazy midnight rendezvous like he’s had in the past, this is hanging out with a friend. A boy friend. A friend that's a male. A friend.

When he rings the doorbell, he can hear Steve yelling something, probably that he’ll get the door, but when it swings open, it’s a tall man he assumes is most likely Mr. Harrington.

“Hello, are  you a friend of Steve’s?” He looks at the clock on the wall, noting that it's pretty late for someone to come over.

Billy puts on his best smile. “Yes sir,” He grins warmly, gripping Mr. Harrington’s hand in a firm handshake. “Billy. Nice to meet you.”

Mr. Harrington chuckles. “I was beginning to forget that Steve had any friends!” His joke hits a soft spot for Steve and is generally pretty unfunny. Billy and Steve both look at each other, forcing a laugh or two. “Come on in Billy,”

Billy walks in and waves at Steve's mom, sitting on the couch and Steve immediately hints that he wants to get going and not be around his parents anymore. Fair point. 

Billy goes on ahead to Steve's room as he grabs some cups from the kitchen. Billy enters the bedroom and immediately locates and raids his record collection. He’s mentally crossing his fingers that Steve got caught up in a conversation with his parents or something, because this is going to be close. He feels his heart beating out of his chest when he finds the album he’s looking for: Horizontal by the Bee Gees. He frantically throws it into the record player, waiting until he hears footsteps coming down the hall before he drops the needle.

He can’t help but laugh a little as Steve pushes the door open since it doesn’t close tight anymore. He stops dead in his tracks when he sees Billy standing next to his record player, whistling all nonchalant.

_ Smile _

_ An everlasting smile _

_ A smile can bring you near to me _

Steve raises his eyebrows and grins. “What the hell is this?”

Billy shrugs. “I’m expanding my musical horizons,” He reaches out, taking the cups that Steve brought and cracks open the bottle of Coke. Pouring himself and Steve both a glass, he holds it out to the other boy. “A toast, to you having your ideal Saturday night and me not having to deal with my bullshit family. Cheers, Harrington!”

Steve takes a swig. “Cheers,” He laughs to himself.

_ Talk _

_ In everlasting words _

_ And dedicate them all to me _

Billy lifts his glass to his lips and eyes Steve. He wonders what’s going through that head of his - they talked about his ‘ideal’ Saturday night, but was it really his ideal night with Billy there with him?

Steve is staring at his cup, putting it down after a moment of silence and giving Billy a weird look. “I can’t believe you sometimes.” He says, putting his hand on his hip.

“What do you mean? How ruggedly handsome I am?”

He rolls his eyes. “No. Like, when you’re  _ nice _ . It’s so bizarre and random. One minute you’re shoving me to the ground or kicking me across the room,  _ literally _ , and the next you dig through my shit and play my favourite song for me,”

Billy shifts his weight and half-smiles, brushing it off. "Maybe I want to be a better person."

_ It’s only words _

_ And words are all I have _

_ To take your heart away _

Steve’s mouth is open as if he has something else to say but he’s clearly reluctant. He sits on the edge of the bed and Billy walks around the room a little, scanning all of Steve's things.

“So, what kind of stuff do you do in your free time, Harrington?” Billy asks as he runs his thumb along the spines of books on a shelf.

“I....really don’t do a whole lot. Sometimes I draw a little bit or just listen to my records. I have a lot of free time and not a bunch of things to do or people to see. What about you?”

“I lift weights and read and fuck girls,” Billy can hear Steve make a noise, but he isn’t really sure if it’s a laugh or a scoff. He picks up  _ The Great Gatsby _ and turns to the other. “This is one of my favourite books of all time,”

“Why does it surprise me that you like to read?”

“I don’t seem like the bookish type, I know,”

“Well your other two interests don’t usually go along with being a bookworm,”

Billy raises an eyebrow. “I can’t read classic novels and be fit and get laid a lot, huh?”

Steve gives him a dirty look. “Didn’t say you can’t, just don’t know if I believe it.”

“Two truths and a lie,” Billy slides his tongue across his teeth. “I read ten novels in October, I’m more muscular than you, and I sleep with a lot of girls. Which one is the lie?”

“What?”

“Two of those things are true and one is false. If one of them is a lie, which one is it?” Billy sits on the edge of the bed next to Steve, paging through the book.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Ten novels,”

Billy slams the book down on his thigh. “WRONG!” Steve jumps at the sudden noise.

“Well you’re clearly more muscular than me, so you  _ don’t  _ sleep with a lot of girls? I guess I don’t know how many is a lot. So that’s cheap,”

Steve has a strange expression on his face. Billy can’t quite place it. The guy normally wears his emotions on his sleeve and he can’t figure out his thoughts. He wants to get inside his head and learn how his brain works. He wants to be able to be empathetic like how Steve is. He wants to  _ feel _ things like Steve does, have an understanding like Steve does.

“Fine, we won’t play this game.” Billy stands up and tosses the book on Steve’s nightstand. He rummages through the dresser against the wall. “Can I borrow these?” He pulls out a pair of plaid pajama pants.

Steve frowns. “Haven’t you learned your lesson? My clothes are not going to fit you,”

“Try me,” Billy unzips his jeans. He can see that Steve is slightly uncomfortable and he smirks. Steve is looking away, purposely, anywhere but at Billy. He tugs off his jeans and throws them at him. “Hold these for me.”

Steve gets hit by them because he isn’t paying attention, and he’s shocked to see that Billy isn’t wearing any underwear. “Um,” he throws the jeans back at the other boy. “You’re going to wear my pants without any fucking underwear? Seriously?” 

Billy shrugs and does a little dance, trying to wiggle his way into the pants. “You were right, I can’t fit,” Steve is looking him directly in the eyes, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

He loves to see Steve squirm and is instantly satisfied watching him try to avert his attention everywhere except for him stuffing himself into the pants. He unbuttons his shirt and grabs his jeans, tossing them in a heap on the floor near the door.

“In case you couldn’t tell, I’m spending the night,” He says, helping himself to the blanket that’s neatly folded on the chair in the corner. “I’m gonna make my bed. We can definitely stay up a little while longer, I just wanted to get comfortable. I was thinking that maybe we can work together on the next English project if we have a choice for partners. I think it’s going to be on -”

Steve is completely ignoring every single word coming out of Billy’s mouth. He’s trying his absolute hardest to not feel extremely nauseous, but watching Billy walk around with his pants clinging to his... _ whole being _ is stirring his stomach contents around. He seriously wonders how he’s able to crouch down to set up the blankets on the ground without ripping the seam. Billy’s legs look like they’ve been painted blue plaid; He’s not chubby by any means, but the waistband is so tight that it almost looks like it’s given him a muffin top.

He’s looking directly at Steve now, probably talking about something kind of important, or maybe just Billy-important. Perhaps asking Steve for feedback, but he has none because his focus is completely elsewhere. He’s just standing there now, with his posture all slouchy, one hand draped down his side and the other up to his mouth biting his nails. He’s just eyeing  Steve, a fingertip in his mouth and his hair all sloppy and curly and his eyelashes are just fucking there and -

“Harrington!”

“What!?”

“I’m fucking talking to you!” Billy snaps his fingers in Steve’s face and he receives the confirmation he was dreading - that Billy was speaking directly to him the entire time. He crosses his arms and makes a pouty face, and holy  _ shit  _ is  Steve ever feeling sick.

“I’m sorry,” He rubs his forehead and closes his eyes forcefully, taking a deep breath.

“Where have you been?”

Billy does the stupid thing that Billy does where he crouches -  _ ugh _ \- in front of him and puts his hands on Steve's knees; A friendly reminder of his lack of the concept of personal space.

“Hmm?” Steve groans, digging his fingers into his eyes and kind of wishing he could just die.

He’s startled by the feeling of warmth on his hands. Billy’s moving Steve’s arms away from his face. “Where did you go?” He reaches up and pushes a piece of Steve’s hair behind his ear. “You’re always so far away, you must have a lot of stuff goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours.”

Steve feels a wildfire ignite in his joints. He wonders if maybe he’s accidentally warped to a different universe - he has no other explanation as to how Billy could possibly be so hot and cold  _all the goddamn time._ He's a completely different person every fucking five minutes and it's getting tiresome. “I-I’m here, I mean, I guess I do have a lot of weird shit in my head, I wish it’d stop to be honest,”

Billy stands up to sit next to him on the bed. “You ever get thoughts that make you feel like you’re drowning?” He lays back on the bed and lifts his arms up over his head, dangling them over the edge.

Steve gulps.  _ Literally all the time? Right now?  _ “Definitely,” he sneaks a look at Billy next to him, stretched out and so helpless looking. Billy, helpless? Ridiculous. The thought would have never crossed his mind a month ago. “All the time actually.” He falls back onto the bed next to Billy.

The blond boy turns to Steve. He studies his face - all of his moles, the way his jawline produces shadows on his neck, the angle of his nose. “What kind of thoughts drown _ you _ , Harrington?”

Steve rolls over. He bites his lip and locks eyes with Billy. “I've always had them - fears, anxieties...but I've been getting these weird self doubt thoughts lately,” he sighs. “Like, I'm really confused and lost. I feel like I don't know who I am and it's...it's scaring me.”

“Like, because of Nancy?” Billy cocks an eyebrow, barely a few centimeters from him. He laces his fingers together and puts them under his head. He can tell Steve is hesitant. He feels the tension thickening in the air and after what feels like forever, Steve finally breaks the ice.

“No... because of... you.”

Billy blinks twice. “...What?” 

Steve slams his palms against his forehead. “Shit, I don't know. Jesus, Billy, it's like you have suddenly become the only person I can depend on and it...it freaks me out,”

Billy stares for a moment, but then breaks into a laugh. “The only person you can depend on? Me? Yeah right,”

Steve lightly punches Billy in the stomach. “I'd normally like to joke about it but I'm trying to be serious,” his fist falls and his hand lays flat on Billy's bare abdomen. The warmth of Steve's touch sends electricity throughout his body and he suddenly realises that Steve is sort of right. Maybe it goes both ways, maybe Steve is the only person that  _ he _ can depend on too. He sure as shit couldn’t depend on Tommy or any of the other people at school who only want to be friends with him because he’s the new kid from California.

Steve starts to retract his arm but Billy grabs his wrist,  startling him, and gently brings Steve’s hand up to his own cheek, just softly holding it there for a moment.

“Steve…” Billy whispers so quietly he can hardly hear himself. Steve’s expression softens when he sees the look in Billy's eyes, and Billy knew that he didn't have to say a word.

“You're welcome.”

 

The rest of the night flies by too fast. Billy had run out to his car and grabbed the last few beers, and Steve had so courteously borrowed some Jack Daniels from his parents. 

Steve plays his favourite records for Billy, trying to convince him that it was indeed good music and Billy argues against it. He mimics Robert Plant, fakes a lot of guitar solos and struts around, whipping his hair all over and singing into an imaginary microphone.

They attack the kitchen at two in the morning, making cookies and discover that Billy has a knack for getting flour  _ all over the place _ , despite baking the cookies to the absolute perfect consistency. When Steve takes his batch out of the oven, they're burnt and crispy and Billy thinks it's the funniest thing. Steve fires back with a joke about Billy needing a “kiss the cook” apron and Billy turns it into a trap by asking who he gets to kiss and it makes Steve all squirmy and passive.

They talk about school and their first girlfriends and their favourite places in the whole world and their dreams for the future.  Billy reminisces about his life in California versus Steve spending all eighteen years of his life in Hawkins. And god, having a friend has never felt so good for either of them; An unlikely friendship is still a friendship.

Steve looks like the weight of the world has been lifted off of his shoulders. Billy admires him from afar many times that night. He's so genuine, a truly pure soul with a heart of gold. It makes him realise that all of his friends in the past were there for the parties and the drives and the smokes and the games but none of them were there for when you  were hungry for cookies and a conversation. Billy wonders how he even got to this exact moment, here, with Steve Harrington. How he’s feeling the way he does -  _ so free _ . Free from his father's aggressive clutches and judgment. He feels lighter than air and quite frankly, he isn't even worried about the impending doom he'll have to face upon his arrival back to his house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is kind of shit, there was a really awkward cutoff between this bit and the next chapter and I didn't want to make the next chapter like 7000 words lol. The next chapter is a little more detailed and ...for lack of a better term...eventful???  
> SOON the good shit happens. I'm getting kind of impatient and that's why I've been uploading a chapter a day, I know I should back off but it's hard when it's already written lmao. Thank you for all of your love! <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the response I've been getting from this fic it's absolutely a shock!  
> I wish I could put more time into this and I wish it was up to par with my usual writing but this'll have to do. Love you all. <3
> 
> *tw for hate speech & slur*

By the time either of them tire, it's early in the morning rather than late at night. Steve's father pokes his head into Steve's room before he leaves for work at six-thirty, choosing to ignore the fact that he didn't even have to turn the handle to open the door.

“You're still awake, son?” He grins unnaturally, taking in the scene.

Steve is awake, sitting  in his bed, reading  _ The Great Gatsby _ with Billy draped over him, head essentially in his lap and probably drooling a little bit. “Yeah, I can't really sleep with…” he gestures with book in hand to the human boy sprawled all out on his bed, “this.”

“How did that happen?” Mr. Harrington's tone abruptly turns sour.

Steve flinches. “Um, he was tired and we were talking…?” He replies uneasily, sensing a slight anger in the other's voice.

His dad forces another smile and nods, looking suspicious.

Steve was completely lost, unsure what he could possibly be mad about. He and Billy weren't loud whatsoever. Well, they weren't loud enough to where his parents could have heard them from across the house. They'd cleaned up their kitchen mess and it’s Sunday now, neither Billy nor Steve had school or a job so there really wasn't any reason for animosity. 

“I'm glad you had fun, Steven,” his dad waves weirdly. “Tell Billy I said goodbye and it was nice to meet him.”

Steve nods and raises his hand briefly. 

_ Bizarre _ . 

He rubs his eyes hard and looks down at Billy, poor Billy who will probably wake with a gnawing headache and not even remember half of what they talked about. He feels a sting of disappointment, wondering if the only reason Billy was even nice to him was because he had a little too much alcohol in him. And to be fair, Steve had also been a little deep in the bag.

What a sight they must be.

Steve gets flustered over nothing, just staring at the boy in his lap and a feeling of peace overwhelms him. He reaches his hand out to Billy, sloppy Billy with his hair all over, dripping golden strands down over his eyes and cheeks. And his face - he looks so soft and so pure while he's here and he's sleeping and Steve can't even believe that this guy beat the shit out of him. That he can be so hostile and so angry - he knows why and he sort of understands, but it’s  _ surreal _ .

He strokes his thumb along Billy's cheekbone softly, noticing that he has just a few freckles - they're light, so they're probably from the sun, he decides. Billy stirs, eyelids fluttering open and lips parting just a little bit, and Steve is suddenly aware of the fact that he's being intrusive and strange. The sun is peeking in through the window just a tiny bit and Steve winces, getting ready for a verbal assault in the event that Billy has totally forgotten the entire night.

Billy pushes himself up on his hands and half-sits up. He's clearly not fully awake, looking dopey and making weird moaning noises the way that people do when they shuffle about while asleep. Steve is paralyzed, not sure what to expect or what to do, so he just waits. Billy is nodding off again, head dropping and then jerking back up. 

Steve, afraid Billy's going to fall off the bed, reaches out and envelopes him. The blond boy looks up at him with a glazed look in his eyes and pulls himself closer, burying his chin in the crook of Steve's neck and placing his arm ever so lightly along his waist.

Steve doesn't dare say a word, he doesn't dare move and quite frankly, he isn't sure that he  _ wants _ to move. His senses feel heightened - he breathes in the woodsy scent of Billy's shampoo and cologne from where he put it along his collarbone in the morning, probably; his skin is ignited by the warmth of Billy's against his neck and shirt. 

He rests his head against the other boy’s, and his entire body filled with heat. As his loneliness fades away, he realises that perhaps, though he really does miss what he had with Nancy, it's not the romance that he needs. He just needs someone to be there, and even if it's shirtless drunk Billy Hargrove sleeping against his chest wearing too tight of pajama pants.

Reaching a hand up to comb through Billy's hair, he sighs and leans his head back, closing his eyes, drifting off into sleep.

 

Billy eventually wakes up shortly after noon. He opens his eyes and upon realisation that he's in an unfamiliar environment, he shoots up, looking around in a panic before his eyes land back on Steve and his hideous wallpaper. His neck and cheek are a little red, from where Billy was clearly sleeping against him. Billy suddenly  feels like he has spiders crawling all over his body and steps off the bed uncomfortably, forgetting about his skin-tight pants. 

“What the fuck,” he mumbles aggressively as he grasps at his legs, puzzled. He, quickly reaches for his clothes in the corner, ripping off Steve's pants and zipping his own jeans up, getting ready to leave. His head feels like it has been ran over by a big ol’ semi and he feels a little like he's going to throw up. His eyes dart around the room - he's trying  _ so hard _ to figure out how he ended up completely entangled with Steve Harrington on his bed.

He remembers dancing around to the music;

_ “Come on, Harrington. This is real music!” He grabs Steve's hands and bounces all over the room, hindered only by the lack of flexibility the pants were allowing. Steve laughs and does his own little dance, shaking his hips and looking lame while Billy strums his air guitar to the Scorpions. _

He thinks back to making the cookies;

_ “You literally got flour everywhere! You need an apron,” _

_ “As long as it's a cool apron and not one with frilly shit, that'll be my Christmas present. Right?” _

_ Steve smirks. “I was thinking more of one that says 'kiss the cook’ or something like that. You'd totally wear that,” _

_ Billy laughs, striking a pose, glass of whiskey in his hand. He reaches out and pulls steve closer to him by the belt. “Who do I get to kiss, huh?” _

_ Color floods to Steve's face and he rips free immediately, grabbing a broom and ignoring Billy's laughter. “I don't know, maybe like Jenny T. Or something,” _

Billy smacks himself on the forehead, feeling like he could projectile vomit at any given moment. He recalls having a whole lot of cookies and an  _ extra whole lot _ of Jack and Coke, sitting on the floor across from Steve.

_ “If I could go aaaaaaanywhere in the world, I think I'd go to Italy,” Billy, intoxicated, shovels an entire cookie into his mouth.  _

_ Steve nods, also sloppy from his whiskey.  “Trueeee, I feel like it'd be such a neat place. Lots of history and shit,” he takes a clumsy sip from his glass. “My parents go there sometimes and they said it's really pretty.” He is struggling, a piece of warm cookie dropping down to the floor. He’s laughing a little too hard. “I'm fucking drunk, Billy. I c-cant even get this shit in my mouth,” _

_ Billy snorts at the sight of it -  chocolate all over Steve's face and fingers. He scoots closer and absentmindedly grabs Steve's hand, abruptly dragging his tongue across Steve’s skin. “Is this b-better?” _

_ Steve’s breathing gets shaky as Billy slips his fingers his mouth and - _

Billy feels bile coming up his throat and dry heaves. “Fuck!” he whisper-shouts and throws a glance towards the sleeping brunette. He rips at the roots of his hair. “Oh my god…” he sinks down to the floor, his ability to recall less and less patchy. Alcohol and alienation  were absolutely  _ not _ his friend. He feels like his brain is about to explode at all of the memories flooding in.

_ “You're so shy, Harrington,” Billy crawls over Steve's legs, dropping his limp hand and leaning his own weight on one arm. _

_ “S-shut up,” Steve chuckles, his usual anxiety slowly melting out of his face, fueled by liquid courage. _

_ He's sitting on the floor, back up against his bed. Billy is on one side of him, legs laying across the other's. “You've gone and made a big mess!” Billy slurs, laughing at nothing. “Lemme...lemme help you,” _

_ “Help me, I'm a careless bitch,” Steve smiles and sticks his face out, letting Billy cup his cheek.  _

_ Billy's thumb passes over the chocolate in the corners of Steve's mouth, smearing it all over his lips. “Well shit,” he mumbles. _

_ “Ugh...just get it off, pretty please,” Steve reaches out and tangles his hand in Billy's already messy hair. _

_ Billy sticks his tongue out and smiles. “Pretty boy says pretty please…I gotta help 'em,” he looks deep into Steve's eyes and closes the distance between them, licking the chocolate on his face. He flicks his tongue across Steve's lips slowly, pressing the tip of his nose against Steve's. “All gone, now you're p-pretty again,” _

_ “I think it's still there thooooough...like, you missed a spot...you dipshit..” Steve slides his hand down to Billy's neck, bringing him in and presses his lips against the other's.  _

_ Billy smiles into the kiss, “Harrington, you've been a...lil’ naughty I think.”  _

Nausea. Heartburn. Probably having a stroke.

Billy slams his head into his hands. “Oh...my...fucking gooooooood,” he stands up and looks around viciously, grabbing his shirt and quickly fastening the buttons. “Fuckfuckfuck!” Despite his precautions, he accidentally kicks a beer bottle and sends it flying loudly into the wall - luckily not shattering but most  _ definitely  _ waking up Steve.

“Unggg….Billy?”

Billy turns around so fiercely he feels like he’s given himself whiplash. “Hi,” he squeaks. 

Steve rubs his eyes lazily. “Are you leaving? Already?” Billy feels his blood boiling, unsure if Steve remembers or not.

“Um, yeah, it's uh, it's after twelve. I should probably get home…”

“Get home? Why?”

“My…” he hesitates and throws his hands down. “Shit, Harrington. I don't know.”

Steve cocks an eyebrow. “I don't really know what your deal is...?” He stands up sleepily and starts to approach Billy, who backs away with haste.

“I just gotta go, okay?” he dodges out of the way of Steve and escapes the room, grabbing his boots and jacket, making a  beeline for the front door. 

Before he arrives, Steve jumps in front of him, looking a lot more awake now. “Billy, come  _ on _ , what is your issue here?”

“Get out of my way,” Billy says darkly.

Steve shakes his head solemnly, watching Billy’s expression harden. “Explain to me why you’re upset first,  _ please _ .”

“Did you not hear me, you fucking asshole?” Billy takes a step towards the other boy, pulling his hair out of his jacket. “Get out of my goddamn way.” He stalks towards Steve, grinding his teeth. 

Steve is looking a bit unnerved, but he’s clearly ready to hold his ground but Billy is getting pissed at this point. He reaches his arm up and slams it against Steve’s neck. “Get the fuck out of my way, Harrington, or I’m gonna  _ throw your ass _ out of the way!” He yells, backing up.

Steve takes action and grabs Billy’s arms, wrestling with him. “Calm down, okay!? We can just fucking talk about it or something - I just want to know what’s wrong!”

Billy, infuriated, swipes his leg across the floor and trips Steve, his body slamming to the floor.  “Adios, amigo,” Billy mumbles, stepping over Steve and twirling his keys on his finger. 

Steve lies defeated on the ground for a moment, listening to the engine of the Camaro roar to life and then Billy speeding down the road. Steve decides that he’s come too close to having a friend to have this dick just bail on him like that. He storms into his room, grabbing his favourite bomber jacket and a pair of jeans. He starts putting on his shoes when the Bee Gees album catches his eye. “Fucking prick,” he mumbles.

 

Billy slams on the breaks and throws the car into park before he’s even stopped. He gets out of the car, pleasantly surprised that Neil and Susan aren’t home. Chances are that if they weren’t, neither was Max. He opens the front door cautiously, bellowing out a small ‘ _ hello?’ _  before heading to his room.

He takes his brush to his hair, pulling it through the knots slowly, staring at himself in the mirror.

A mess.

A yell escapes him and he throws the hairbrush across his room. Disheveled, he rips off his shirt and throws it on the floor, kicking it immediately. Harrington was so nice to him, letting him stay in his fucking house, escape from his demons for a little while, and he had gone and fucked it up. Being honest with himself, he was definitely afraid of letting anyone get too close, and for good reason because  _ boy  _ he was a walking disaster. Every single person who had shown any sort of interest in him was just some stupid bird who wanted to have sex with him or some random guy with self esteem issues who saw him as a way to get popular and get chicks of their own.

Feeling disgusting and worthless, Billy lights up a cigarette, not giving a shit about the fact that Neil would bitch about the lingering smoke scent later and finishes undressing. Perhaps a shower would cleanse him of his fucking stupidity. He reaches out to run the water, getting lost in thoughts of doubt and anger. 

_ You invited yourself to Steve’s house. He was reluctant. _

_ You embarrassed Steve in front of his parents and probably got him in trouble for something. _

_ You made fun of Steve’s music taste and the fact that he was being a kind person to the little shit at the dance. _

_ You had too much to drink and took advantage of Steve when he wasn’t in his right mind. _

He reaches out to feel the water temperature, running his hand under the faucet. He isn’t paying attention - can’t even tell if it’s warm or cold.

_...Steve kissed you. You didn’t take advantage. _

Noises echo through the house and Billy snaps out of his trance. He scurries back to his room and throws on a pair of sweatpants and a tank top in case Max or Susan just came home.

“Hey…” he murmurs, wandering out into the living room. The thumping noise is coming from the front door. He inhales a deep breath and opens the door hesitantly.

Of course.

“Fuck off, Harrington, I don’t want your bitch ass girl scout cookies,” He starts to slam the door on Steve, but he grabs the door and forces it open. “Ooh, where’d you get the muscles? Been hitting the gym since yesterday?” He decides against protesting due to lack of energy and lets Steve enter. He takes a cigarette out of the pack on the coffee table and lights it, taking a long drag.

“Fuck off? You know what, Billy?”

“Yeah, actually, I was about to take a shower, so if you could just leave, that’d be fucking  _ great.”  _ Billy starts to walk away from Steve, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

Steve grabs the cigarette out of Billy’s mouth and puts it in his own. Billy’s lip hangs down and he’s clearly speechless. “You did this.” He takes a  huge puff. “You stress me out, you fucking dick.”

Billy raises his eyebrows. “Oh?”

Steve studies Billy’s change of appearance. “Your hair looks longer,”

“I uh, brushed my hair?”

“Maybe that’s it.”

Quickly tiring of Steve’s bullshit, Billy folds his arms. “I’m getting really impatient, Harrington. Either you leave, or this time I’m literally going to lift your scrawny ass and throw it out the fucking door.”

The actual nerve. Steve essentially broke into his house when his father or step-mother could have been home and he  _ knows _ how that could have very well gone. And also, he really just wanted to take his damn shower. He feels dirty even looking at Steve and those fucking lips of his.

Steve steps towards Billy, poking him in the chest with his index finger. “Fuck you, Billy! Fuck you!”

He wonders if Steve has remembered the night and smirks a little. “What’s on your mind?” He retorts in his best Steve Harrington voice, mocking him. Steve sticks his stupid bottom lip out in a pout, running his hand through his  hair. Billy makes a disgusted face and he bites the inside of his cheeks.

“I’m not letting you get away with just leaving my house without telling me what was going on. Why do you feel like you have to just run away from everything?”

“I run away because I hate this shit! I hate this so damn much,” Billy shakes his head 

“What's going on? I'm clearly lost!”

“You kissed me last night, you...fucking... toad!” Billy starts toward his bathroom, water still running. Steve grabs his arm. Billy turns around furiously, face scrunched in exasperation. “Fucking  _ what,  _ Harrington?! Leave me  _ alone!” _

Steve's eyes are hollow. “I know,”

Billy pauses, hand on the door handle. “What?”

“I know I kissed you. I remember it.”

Billy puts his palm to his forehead and sighs. “Then why the hell are you here?” he starts back towards the shower and starts to take off his top, but Steve wraps his hand around Billy's thick forearm, forcing the fabric back down.

“I'm here because...because I don't fucking know! If you think I don't hate this too then I don't know what to tell you!” He's shouting and Billy swears he has tears swelling up in his eyes. “I hate it too!  _ So  _ much. I-I don't even know who I am!”

Billy is getting exhausted from all of this bullshit. “Go have your fucking existential crisis somewhere else and get  _ out _ !”

Steve starts smacking at Billy, all puffy eyed and upset. Billy is terrified, not of getting hurt but because Steve is acting like a moody pre-teen girl. “You fucking did this to me! Made me all confused and shit!”

Billy starts to take his tank top off again, trying to ignore the raging human in his way, but Steve is still yelling.

“Keep your fucking clothes on you dick!” He shouts. “You make me feel all this fucking angst and shit I just can't help but...just stay dressed...I can’t handle to look at your fucking mythology god body right now!”

Billy gets right up in Steve's face. “Well then get the fuck out if you can't handle it! I'm not here to deal with this, this is my house. LEAVE, Harrington!”

Steve cups Billy's cheek for a moment before Billy smacks it away. “I don't want you Harrington! I like  _ girls _ . Go take your fucking hard dick somewhere else!” He shoves Steve against the wall, the hung  photo frames rattling.

Steve looks lost. “I thought...maybe you wanted me to kiss you.. ?” He whispers, voice raspy.

“Well I fucking didn't.” He pushes Steve out of the bathroom and slams the door in his sad face, turning the lock. “I was drunk. Get out, faggot!”

 

Steve leaves out the front door of the Hargrove residence and sits in the front steps. He  exhales out a breath he'd been holding for too long, letting his face fall into his hands. He's sweating and decides to leave before anyone sees him at the house. When he's a block away, he pulls over off the side of the road and screams as loud as he can, hitting the steering wheel with so much force he’s afraid for a split second that the airbag might deploy.

A knock on his window jerks him out of his depressive trance and he looks up to see Chief Hopper through teary eyes. Great.

Steve rolls down the window and sniffles, trying (and failing) to be subtle.

“What's up, kid?” Hop says awkwardly. “I'd ask if you broke up with your girl, but….”

Steve slams his head on the wheel again with a weak sob. “Excuse my language, Chief, but if you could please just fuck off, that'd be what's best right now,”

Hopper shrugs. “Well, if I'm being honest, I'm kind of worried about you running someone over. You clearly can't see too well,” he walks to the passenger side of the car, letting himself in. “And that mind clearly ain't so crystal either.”

Steve looks up at him and wipes his nose. “I really don't need you to -”

“What's her name?”

“Pardon?”

“What's her name, I said.”

Steve stares blankly for a minute.

“You're obviously heartbroken. What's the girls name?”

Steve feels like he's going to blow chunks all over his dashboard. “Uh…” he hesitates. “Betty…”

Hopper raises an eyebrow suspiciously but lets it slide. He lights up a cigarette. “Right, so what happened?” He's not looking in his direction at all, which Steve is extremely thankful for.

“I kind of let it slip that maybe I might be into Betty. Like,  _ into _ Betty.”

“And? She turn you down flat?”

Something like that,” he mumbles. “I sort of ambushed her at her house and made her listen to me while I told her she made me feel all weird an angsty and -”

“Alright, I think that's where I cut you off.” Hopper is clearly laughing a little through his puffs. “Is she into someone else?”

Steve thinks about it. He's seen Billy driving with girls but he also said that he feels like people just use him to get laid. “I don't...no, I don't think so. Unless she's really behind-the-scenes about it,”

“Which usually high schoolers are not,” Hopper adds validly. “So what made you tell her how you felt? If you went to her house, you clearly went to a lot of trouble. So did you think she felt the same way?”

Steve pauses again. “Well, we might have kissed when we were  _ definitely not _ intoxicated,” he sighs. “It was like…” he runs his hand along his bottom lip. “I had chocolate on my lip and...she said she was gonna get it off.”

He turns his attention to Hopper, who is sitting with his lips pursed and his arms folded. He absolutely cannot believe he's having this discussion with the chief of police. Jesus, he'd become such a fucking loser.

“Well, kid, that's the thing about being wasted - you do shit you might not normally do,”

Steve bites his lip, nodding. He was right. They were drunk, and obviously all of the weird signals he  _ thought _ Billy had been throwing while sober were clearly invalid. “Yeah…”

“Now...it’s not like I’m speaking from experience or anything, but it’s always better to get your feelings out there rather than hiding them. So maybe some good will come of it yet. You never know.”

Steve sighs, rubbing his eyes harshly. “I guess.”

But what Hopper didn’t know - and if Steve had it his way, never would know - was that it’s more than just telling a girl he has a crush on her and getting turned down. It’s being a loner and finally having someone to talk to and then ruining it because maybe you have a little more than platonic feelings for them. It’s being struck out in left field because you have absolutely no idea what to do about these feelings. It’s having  _ no fucking clue _ where these feelings came from because Billy is a fucking  _ boy _ and Steve’s never had feelings for  _ another boy _ .

After promising Hopper he was just going to go home and get some sleep, the two part ways and he goes home and does exactly that - sleeps.


	8. Chapter 8

Monday comes around and the week starts off fine - but Steve notices that his dad has been acting a little bit strangely towards him. He’s usually at work so there’s no time really to discuss it, and when he  _ is _ home the last thing he wants to do is try to figure out what’s wrong with his dad. And to be quite honest, he’d really rather go wallow in his boredom alone in his room.

Steve successfully skims through school without really talking to anyone until Thursday - streak soiled by Nancy approaching him as he's attempting to leave for lunch unseen. 

“Steve, hey,” her touch is light on his shoulder and he turns around slowly. Her face falls when she gets a good look at him and he realises he probably looks a mess.

“Hi, Nance,” he says with no expression.

“Where are you going? Did you want to...join us for lunch? We haven't really had a chance to talk a whole lot since you came back,” she smiles coyly. “And you still never gave us any details about your suspension.”

Pretty far down the list of shit Steve wants to do is sit with Nancy and Jonathan at lunch, and the  _ absolute _ last thing on his fucking list of shit he wants to do is to talk about how he knocked Billy in the face with a badminton racquet.

“Sure,” is all he can manage before he finds himself following her to the cafeteria.

She sets her books next to Jonathan and Steve swings his bag down onto the open chair across from him. “I found him, finally!” Nancy says a little too excitedly, planting a kiss atop Jonathan’s head.

It still burns a little bit, this relationship between Jonathan and Nancy. Despite all of the shit that Steve was dealing with at the moment, he had really truly loved Nancy Wheeler and for her to do what she did was utterly repulsive. And the cherry on top was that he still never really got an apology from either of them.

He watches as Jonathan casually slides his arm around her waist, trying to keep it under the table, almost as if in an attempt to prevent him from seeing. Clearly, it didn't work. “So, how are you, Steve?”

“Look, I really kind of feel like shit, so if you could not act like my mom that'd be great.” He snaps unintentionally, feeling a bit like a jerk after uttering the words.

Jonathan's mouth hangs open and he and Nancy exchange glances. “Okay...so, what happened? How come you got suspended?”

Nancy chimes in, “Yeah, you're like, the last person I'd expect to get suspended,”

Steve sighs. He's shocked no one told them anything about it, especially with Billy's big mouth. The entirety of Hawkins high probably knew about it, and he had a running suspicion that they were included in that group and just wanted to hear his side of the story - which was nice at least. 

“Well, Billy and Tommy  were serving their stupid birdies at me in phy Ed and I… smacked Billy across the face with the racquet.” He nods slowly, picking at his teeth.

Jonathan laughs. “I heard that you did that but honestly I kind of figured you wouldn't do it. Especially to Billy,”

Steve rolls his eyes. “To be fair, he got me back. I mean he literally kicked me across the room. Like, I was airborne for a second,” he recalls the feeling of his skin sliding across the gym floor with a wince.

“Wow, way to go, Steve. Finally someone stands up to Billy Hargrove,” Nancy pats him on the arm, brow furrowed. “He's such a bully. I wish he'd never came here,”

_ Join the goddamn club. _

“His sister is pretty good friends with Will though, so I'm glad for that,” Jonathan adds, mowing down a chicken sandwich. Finishing with a swig of chocolate milk, he gestures across the room. “Look at him over there, sitting on the table like he owns the place.”

He would really rather not look, but nonetheless Steve's eyes drift over to the sight - Billy sitting on top of table with his feet on a chair, hunched over, talking to some girls. He can't help but feel a little bitter; he'd done a pretty good job of ignoring him up until this point. He's fully aware he's staring and he really doesn't even care. He watches Billy, wearing a tee shirt (for once) with a red flannel. He's dipping down, looks like he's whispering in fucking Tina's ear and  _ wow _ does Steve hate Tina right now.

And then he looks up and locks eyes with Steve.

“Ew, is he staring at you?” Nancy jests, poking Steve’s thigh. 

Billy doesn't break eye contact, leaning closer into Tina's space as he nibbles on her ear. Steve turns around and grabs his drink, taking half of it down with one swallow. “What a dick,” he spits aggressively.

Jonathan looks at Nancy with raised eyebrows. “Yeah, he's a psycho. I'm so glad you got one in on him. King Steve lives on forever,” he laughs and punches at Steve jokingly but it’s really not funny at all.

Steve puts on an extremely fake smile. He didn't  like to hear the words king and Steve even remotely in the same sentence. He remembers playing basketball with Billy, getting all handsy and him calling him that stupid nickname,  _ King Steve _ , as he repeatedly knocked him down and asserted his dominance. Dominance to fucking what? Steve didn't give a shit about popularity anymore. Stupid. Stupid stupid.

Nancy clearly notes Steve's sudden change of mood and switches the subject. “So, Jonathan's mom is having a movie night. She says you're invited. All the kids will be there, you're so more than welcome to come,”

Jonathan grins. “We're watching  _ Grease _ . Figured it's at least kinda kid friendly,”

Steve absolutely does not want to go, but he feels like he should probably make an appearance since Dustin will never let him live it down otherwise.

The bell rings and Steve tosses his lunch out, dreading physical education as per usual. He's surprised to see that Billy is there before him, since he's usually late, but he's a little happy since he can avoid him easier with him out of the locker room.

They spend the entire period playing a shitty gym class version of soccer, and Steve manages to escape unscathed. He firmly notes that Billy is hanging back, leaning against the wall near his locker and not getting changed, and he wonders if it's because if what Steve said at his house. Not wanting Steve to see him.

He watches Billy from afar  without him noticing. Billy is definitely scoping out the room, obviously trying to avoid him - but Steve isn't having it. He knows he should really just leave Billy alone, and he knows he's probably going to end up getting killed or something, but when the bell rings for the next class to start and Billy  hasn't even hit the showers, he decides to move in. 

Billy undresses when the locker room is empty and turns on the shower head, clearly satisfied with the fact that he  _ thinks _ he's alone. Steve feels extremely weird and inappropriate being in the room with someone showering without them knowing that he's there. He debates on hiding and just moving on but he thinks that if Billy finds him hiding it'll just be worse.

He approaches the other boy, whose back is towards him. He's shampooing his hair and Steve recognizes the song he's singing to himself as an Ozzy Osbourne song. Steve notes how remarkably well the bruises on Billy's back have healed. 

Having to make a quick decision, he reaches for the shower nozzle, turning the water off in an effort for a little payback. Billy stops moving immediately, eyes closed, hands still in his sudsy hair, and turns around slowly. 

“Harrington,” he says darkly. “Of course you'd be stalking me.”

Steve gets chills at the sight of the hatred and anger in Billy's eyes and regrets every choice he's made today. “We need to talk,”

“About what? Hmm?” He slides his hands atop his head, slicking his hair back. “If I recall correctly, I told your ass that I don't have anything to say to you.”

Steve doesn't utter a word, plan completely backfiring as he stands still. He makes the mistake of letting his eyes flick down to look Billy completely over, which Billy notices.

“Oh, ho ho, that's it, isn't it?” Billy throws his arms up, smiling like a maniac. “You came here to get a glimpse, huh!?” He grabs Steve's chin. “I was hoping to forget about your little crush.” 

He whips his hand away and starts walking back towards the shower before turning around on his heels. “Well you know what Harrington?” He looks down at himself and fans his hands out around his waist. “Here it fucking is, you freak!”

Steve is starting to sweat. This isn't going at all how he'd hoped. He was supposed to be yelling at Billy for being an asshole and now he's just standing there like a coward.

Billy licks his lips. “Yeah, I see you lookin’. You getting off, Harrington? Huh?” He grabs his dick, giving it a couple jerks and puckers his lips, making smacking noises.

“Fuck you, Billy, that's not why I'm here,” Steve finally whispers. “I just wanted to talk.” 

“No, fuck _ you _ , Steve. You came here on God damn purpose,” he turns away from Steve and turns the shower back on.

Steve is pissed. Literally nothing ever goes right for him. He undresses and throws his clothes hard by the lockers, and Billy turns to look over his shoulder. “Aren't you fucking leaving yet?”

“No,” Steve approaches slowly. Billy turns around and Steve feels a little bit of satisfaction as he watches blue eyes scan him. 

_ It’s always better to get your feelings out there rather than hiding them. _

Billy's nose is wrinkled, and he opens his mouth to start to say something before Steve reaches out and takes the other's shoulders in his hands, strong and firm. Billy is clearly taken aback, because otherwise Steve is sure that he would not be able to budge him. He shoves Billy backwards until he is essentially up against the wall.

“You don't have anything to say?” Steve hums, feeling the heat from Billy's breath against his face. His arms are pinning the other boy's against the tiles. “That's fine.” He leans in, kisses Billy lightly, pulling back and trying hard to read the look on Billy's face.

He’s obviously angry, and Steve feels Billy's pulse thumping from the veins in his wrist. Billy looks vulnerable, lip almost quivering, and Steve has a gut feeling like he's about to get the shit kicked out of him.

“I can't believe you fucking did that,” Billy says quietly, calmly, coolly, breath smelling of cinnamon.

Steve's demeanor softens, and Billy immediately takes advantage. He ducks under Steve's arm, ripping free of his grip and turning it back around on Steve, instead pushing him up against the wall with much greater force than Steve had mustered.

“You must be pretty proud of yourself, Harrington. You got me. You win this round,” He's pressing his entire body up against Steve's, whispering in his ear. He can feel Billy's jaw moving against his own as he speaks.

Steve feels so weak, so exposed. He should have never put himself in this ballpark and he tries to blame Hopper in his mind for giving him the advice that he was stupid enough to apply to this situation. He regrets his entire day today, being here, especially. He wishes he'd have just left.

But what he doesn't regret is kissing Billy again. He only wishes it'd have been different. A different time, perhaps. With more feeling. And maybe a little bit of affection in return.

Billy pulls back a little bit, placing his hand firmly against Steve's chest. “Fine. I cave,”

Steve feels like he can't breathe. “W-what?”

Billy's serious expression slowly morphs into the most devious smile Steve has ever seen in his life. “ _ I cave,”  _ he slides his soapy hand down Steve's chest, across his belly button, stopping suddenly just where his skin starts to get sensitive.

“What are you doing, Billy…” Steve whispers, and he's answered by Billy's hand grabbing the nape of his neck, pulling him close. Billy's kiss is ravenous and fiery, and he feels himself lose all of the tension he had been suffering from at the touch of Billy's other hand now along the lower arch of his back.

He reaches his own arms out to the blond boy, deepening their collision, grasping desperately for any part of his skin. Billy grinds up against Steve, first biting softly on his earlobe, then planting kisses down to the crook of his neck. Steve lets out a deep sigh as Billy leaves his mark on the skin just below his ear, the wet friction from their bodies scraping together feeling pleasantly abrasive.

Billy's fingers dig deeply into Steve's hips as he pulls him close, finding every weak spot yet again with his mouth from Steve's jawline down to his collarbone. 

“What are you gonna do, pretty boy?” Billy growls, turning his attention to glide against his lips, tongues tasting each other as Steve feels a sudden tug on his lower half.

“O-oh my god,  _ what the fuck _ ,” Steve chokes, breathless, feeling himself melt at the sensation of Billy's fingers wrapped around him.

Billy chuckles, removing his hand and reaching up to cup Steve's face. “I need to shower,” he plants a kiss on Steve's lips between each word. 

Steve tangles his hand in blond shampoo coated hair. “Unnng...fuck, Billy, you can't just stop right now,” he groans and leans his head back against the wall. “Don't leave me hanging…”

Billy pulls away from Steve, shifting his hands to the wall tile. “You can take care of your damn self, you piece of shit.” he runs his tongue along his teeth, his eyes shifting down Steve. “Go on,” he mumbles, backing up.

Steve breathes heavily, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. “W-what...I…”

“You're hilarious, Harrington,” Billy turns back to the shower and grabs his shampoo again, suddenly uninterested. “I barely touched you and you're almost toast.”

Steve has no words. He feels absolutely ridiculous, embarrassed, traumatized.

“Like, how long do you last when you fuck someone? Ten seconds? Jesus,” Billy isn't helping. Steve watches him, water running through his hair and all down his body. So nonchalant.

Why did he have to fuck with Steve's mind like this? 

“Well?” Billy calls over his shoulder.

When he doesn't reply. Billy turns to him and motions for him to approach. 

“You're dirty, come here,”

Steve’s mouth hangs agape - he doesn’t know what to say. He advances guardedly, stepping under the water and staring at Billy curiously. He's never sure where any sort of interaction is going to go between them, and he's not sure if it's hot or if it just makes him mad.

“C’mere,” Billy says firmly. He grabs the bottle of shampoo, squirting some onto his palm and rubbing it between his hands. He tenderly reaches up to Steve's hair and massages the cleanser into his scalp. Steve is on edge, half ready to get punched and half enjoying himself so much that he feels like he's been granted access to heaven at the pearly gates. He studies Billy's face as he lets him wash his body, overly sensitive to his touch and wincing a little bit every now and then.

Billy is the actual dictionary definition of a wild card. The two had just had an extremely random  _ encounter  _ after having an argument about those exact feelings just days earlier, and now Billy wanted to engage in the extremely intimate activity of washing someone else's body.

“What are you…?” Steve whispers.

Billy cracks a smile. “A fucking sociopath,”

Steve tries to muffle a laugh. “Obviously…”

He decides to try one more risk. He wraps his arms around the other boy’s neck. He feels Billy tense up a little bit before softening. Pulling him closer, he kisses Billy with as much feeling as he can currently gather. He brushes his lips across Billy's, nose skimming his cheek. When the other boy doesn't pull away, he coils his hands in his wet golden hair.

“Sorry,” Steve whispers. “I just wanted to pretend a deep and meaningful kiss was our first kiss.”

“Meaningful...yeah right.” Billy grumbles in response.

Heart racing as he feels Billy's teeth bite down lightly on his bottom lip, Steve rubs his eyes and grabs a towel  before they separate. “You said you only liked girls,”

Billy shrugs. “You went through all the trouble, I just figured I'd let you win one time,”

The amount of bliss Steve feels right now is as if he's won the lottery, but he aches as he watches Billy dry off because he's not dumb. He knows that Billy was just playing his game. He'll never forget all of the mean words Billy has said to him, the mean things he's done. And maybe he was telling the truth - maybe he did only like girls and he was pretending like Steve was Tina or something. Billy wasn't even hard (...not that he was looking or anything) so he clearly wasn't turned on by Steve. Fuck. It was just a joke to him.

It’s completely Steve’s fault for letting himself fall for anything that this guy fucking says to him - there’s absolutely no one to blame but himself. But he just can’t  _ help it. _ He’s never felt so weak before, and insecurity plus confusion does not equal good choices, it just equals heartbreak.

Billy gets dressed at his locker on the opposite side of the room, and all Steve wants to do is pull him in for one more kiss before they leave, but he knows it's not going to happen. Billy departs the opposite way out the door without even a goodbye, and Steve feels a little more broken than he'd care to admit. He considers thoroughly smashing his skull against the lockers, hoping maybe that he could unscramble this brain of his.

Shit, he sure was great at making his life way more complicated than it needed to be. Just a few weeks ago he was perfectly content and straight as a board and dating a beautiful girl but then ten minutes ago he made out with another boy in the shower at school.  _ F u c k.   _ And on top of it, he had to compose himself enough to deal with the movie night. Great.

How was Steve supposed to watch fucking Grease with his ex girlfriend, her new boyfriend, and a bunch of kids when his head was filled with thoughts of how he'd kissed Billy Hargrove naked in the showers at  _ school _ ? Simple. Attend, make an appearance, and mostly ignore everyone.

He grabs his towel and shoves his face in it, screaming as loud as he possibly can, muffling his anger and self-loathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, this whole fic is *supposed* to be awkward, it's supposed to be cringy. so here, have some emo steve and some awkward encounters.  
> sorry for the *mildly nsfw* lmaooo


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> movie nights - steve's favourite passtime.  
> psych!!!!

“He told you  _ all  _ about Betty?” Steve was ready to throw hands. “Of course he did.”

“Where does Betty live?” Nancy puts a finger to her lips. “I can't picture one in Hawkins.”

“Uhh,” Steve wanders into the Byers’ kitchen, panicking, trying to figure out his lies. Fucking Hopper. How typical of him to talk trash to Joyce, but to  _ Nancy and Jonathan _ ? And the KIDS?

“Oh!” Jonathan exclaims. “Is it Betty Johnson?” 

“Ooooh, makes sense. I have her in home ec. I guess I didn't really….picture her as Steve's type though.” She laughs. 

Shit. Betty Johnson was a greasy weirdo and he had forgotten she existed. And now he's going to have to pretend to have feelings for her. The worst part is that if one of them questioned her, she'd probably jump on the thought of Steve being interested.

Dustin enters the kitchen. “I'm sorry you're having girl problems,” He takes a potato chip from the bowl that Steve just poured. “Me too, pal. No one likes me either.”

Steve is slightly insulted. It’s not like Dustin is wrong, no one really likes Steve, but having someone who is so much younger point it out is kind of like a slap in the face.

“Do you even like Grease?” Dustin asks, trying to shove way more chips than socially acceptable into his mouth. 

Steve stares him down for a second. “Um, yeah,” he mumbles.

“Shit, I love chewing.” Dustin runs his finger along his teeth, grinning widely.

“Mhm,” Steve purses his lips. He dreads this night, tossing a glance to the living room of impending doom. The two head back with a bunch of cans of soda and the ginormous bowl of chips. They take turns passing the bowl around, and Steve slides down to the floor in front of the couch full of kids.

Dustin plops his feet down around Steve's shoulders. “Do you mind, dipshit?”

“Hey, my feet aren't stinky!”

Steve rolls his eyes, listening to Lucas and Will laughing at him. As the opening sequence plays, he ignores it completely - he really just wants to go home. He’s growing exhausted of feeling like he  _ needs _ to do things. He felt that he  _ needed _ to come watch this dumb movie with these kids and Nancy and Jonathan because otherwise he’d never hear the end of it. Steve wants to do shit because he  _ wants _ to. He’s just  _ tired _ of  _ everything. _

As his thoughts roam everywhere but the film in front of him, Steve has decided that he absolutely cannot wait to be finished with high school. It's so close to being within his grasp that he can almost taste it. He cannot _ wait _ to be rid of fucking Billy and Nancy and Jonathan and all of their bullshit. To be rid of trash like Tommy  and the rest of the people just like him who do nothing but drag Steve down.

Steve is zoned out at maximum level, disregarding all of the room singing along to the songs, essentially rejecting the entirety of the movie until finally they’re coming to the end. Nearly finished, Steve hears an all too familiar sound coming from outside. He parts the curtains, taking a deep breath as Billy’s blue Camaro pulls up. Max sighs angrily from the couch. “That’s gotta be  my brother.” She starts to collect her things, making a trip down the hallway.

After everyone has stirred, she runs out, grabbing her wrist, looking panicked and latching onto Lucas. Across the room, Steve hears a cracking noise and some yelling, and he can see Billy getting out of his car through the drapes.

Steve definitely thought his night couldn’t get any worse and suddenly within five minutes, Max is screaming about having lost something, Will is yelling at Jonathan for spilling a soda and breaking something, and Billy is pounding on the door menacingly. Eleven and Mike have followed Nancy to help Max, and Steve is stuck standing in front of the house suffering from sensory overload. He feels a migraine approaching as he reaches for the door handle.

The second that he swings the door open, Billy throws his hands up. When he sees Steve is the one who’s answered it, he hisses. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Is there anywhere in this godforsaken town that you  _ aren’t? _ I can’t get rid of you. Fuck.” 

“Look who’s talking,” Steve grumbles, letting him enter reluctantly. He watches Billy’s posture - affirmed, impatient, and tall. He takes into consideration that perhaps Billy didn’t really want to see him after their tryst in the locker room.

“Come on, Max, let’s go,” Billy folds his strong arms when he sees Max’s episode remains uninterrupted. 

“I lost it...Billy, we have to look for it,” she says, hands flailing around.

“Fucking look for what?” He retorts, looking impatient.

“My dad’s chain, it’s gotta be around here somewhere. I was wearing it but it’s not there...I-”

Billy stomps his foot loudly. “I don’t really have time for this, okay? Let’s fucking go. Come back later,” he growls.

In the middle of all of the chaos, one of the couch cushions lifts up and flies across the room. “Where is the chain!?” Eleven shouts, rummaging through everything. 

The cushion lands a few inches from Steve’s feet. He reaches down, grabbing it instinctively and without a second thought.

“...What the fuck was that…?” Billy gasps, and everyone stops searching, including Eleven, who has the other two cushions currently suspended mid air. She drops them with a yelp.

“Didn’t notice him,” She frowns. 

Steve suddenly realises what’s happening and panic starts to set in. “Uh, it was...uh...”

Billy’s eyes look wider than humanly possible and everyone is completely silent, unsure of what to do. “Did you just...did that just…”

Mike quickly steps forward. “You need to leave!”

Billy doesn’t even reply with a witty remark because he’s just stunned. And Steve doesn’t really blame him - the first time he’d seen anything like that he’d reacted similarly, just with a lot more screaming.

Steve feels like he’s inhaling less and less air by the second. He turns to Billy and grabs his arm, the other boy’s focus still on the cushions across the room. “Look, Billy, I'm gonna tell you this shit and you have to swear on your entire life that you won't tell a single soul,”

“Steve!? Do you really think that-” Mike starts to protest, but Max grabs his arm. 

“He’s been better. A little,” she whispers.

“Better than what he was? I sure as hell hope so,” Lucas adds.

Billy shakes his head a little, rubbing his fingers hard on his forehead and snapping out of his trance. “...And if I decide to sell whatever secret you freaks have and make millions?” He smirks, but clearly no one is amused. And Steve can hear in his voice that despite his facade, he’s uneasy and hoarse - trying hard to keep his alpha status even in the face of the unknown.

Dustin and Lucas both drag their finger across their throat in response. Billy raises his eyebrows, expression taut. “So, what? I die if I tell anyone?” He then laughs audibly and with his entire body, forcing the sound to be louder than necessary.

Mike looks at Steve and frowns. “Promise me she'll be safe around...him,”

Steve smiles, nodding slightly in Billy's direction. “Don't worry. I've tamed him. It's all good,” 

“ _ You _  haven't tamed anything, Harrington,” Billy barks back, pulling his hair out of his jacket fervently.

“Hopper is gonna kill you, you know that, right?” Dustin approaches Steve, who shrugs, still pretty pissed that he told everyone about 'Betty'.

“Gotta do what you gotta do...he’s seen El.”

Billy waves his hand around, snapping his fingers. He’s clearly still a bit shaken, but holds his own nonetheless. “Alright, so anyone care to fucking explain? Did this shit just fly around by itself? Who's El?” Steve hides a snicker at the sight of the face Billy is making. “Her?” He points at Eleven, who’s wringing her wrists sheepishly.

Billy jerks his arm away from Steve, who’s attempting to reach out for him. “Chill out and we’ll explain, okay?”

 

“She can  _ what!? _ Billy grasps for the back of a chair to steady himself. “With her fucking  _ mind? _ ” He puts his hand against his temple, face twisted in disbelief. The chair suddenly moves out from under his arm and he stumbles. He reacts instantly, spinning around so fast he looks like he could have gotten whiplash and shooting daggers at Eleven. 

She points to her chest. “It was me,”

Billy looks like he's going to faint. He turns to look back at the rest of the party. “And all you fucks have known about this chick for over a year!?”

They nod.

“She can find people, find things.” Mike says finally as Billy is ripping at his hair and pacing. He stops, looking at him blankly. “She found Will when he was in the upside down.”

“The _fucking_ _what?_ ” Steve laughs a little at Billy’s mug. He’s overwhelmed, and when he raises his eyebrows like he’s been doing for the last few minutes straight, his forehead gets all wrinkly. He’s rubbing his face in exasperation, confusion, loss.

Dustin shakes his head. “Nevermind that.”

Billy sits down with a huff. “Jesus Christ,” his head falls into his hands. 

Eleven walks over to him and runs her hand through his hair. He looks up in shock, hostility in his eyes at first, but his expression softens promptly when he realises it’s the little girl.

“Hey, kid,” he sighs, frowning.

“Pretty,” she says, now sticking both of her hands in his messy hair.

He’s a little bit annoyed, but he can’t help but laugh. “You think this is pretty?” He ruffles her mop. “Now  _ that _ hair is pretty.”

Her cheeks flush and across the room the party erupts into chatter.

“What the hell happened to Billy?”

“Is that my brother? Holy shit,”

“What is going on?”

“Is the world ending?”

Steve’s heart flutters at the sight of Billy being a human for once, and he wonders why he can’t just be nice  _ all the time _ \- it’s really not a difficult concept. Especially to his little sister. He'd made some efforts, sure - but Steve gets lost in the thought of maybe one day being able to bring Billy along to movie nights and to hold  his hand while they watch and -

“Fuck!” Billy shouts abruptly, scanning everyone with crazy eyes. “You’re all insane,” He grumbles.

Steve can’t even imagine how difficult this is for him. He reminisces about the night he first found out about the demogorgon, how he had walked in on Jonathan and Nancy summoning it and he had been so damn confused and so scared and so stuck in doubt and disbelief. 

Mike  suddenly rushes over and shoves Billy’s shoulder, not even budging him. “Leave El alone. You’re only here on accident, I guess. But stop talking to her. She doesn’t like you,”

Eleven puts her hand on Mike’s arm gently. “Mike, stop,” she replies, tone completely calm.

Billy looks around with his hands up. “Look, little dude, I didn’t ask for this shit. Relax,” he rolls his eyes and rises, retreating to the corner of the room. 

“Hopper should be coming soon, right El?” Lucas asks. Eleven nods.

“Wonderful,” Billy replies and puts his hands on his hips. “I really would just like to fucking leave, actually.”

Steve seconds his feeling of dread after knowing that Hopper disclosed Steve's fictional feelings for fictional Betty to the entire party. He’s definitely going to have to have some words with the Chief, and he’s  _ definitely _ going to have to try to convince Nancy and Jonathan that he does  _ not _ have feelings for Betty Johnson.

 

Once they manage to convince Billy to hang around a little bit longer, they pass the time by trying to explain to him some of Eleven’s history while looking for Max’s chain. He’s mostly got a blank expression on his face the entire time but they just keep trucking. After twenty minutes or so, Hopper enters the house, probably suspicious when he saw the Camaro parked outside.

“The  hell is this?” Hopper looks around the room, from the kids, to Steve, to Billy, to Steve again. “ _ Steve?” _ His voice is raised in anger. 

“Look, I can explain,”

Hopper sighs, taking off his hat and rubbing his forehead. “You kids gotta stop dragging her into this shit,” he lights up a cigarette. “This is why she was kept at the cabin for so long, away from you people,” He shifts his glance to Billy, who is looking more bored than anything. “Hargrove,” he says with a small nod.

“Yep, that’s me,”

“Any reason why I should be trusting you with this?”

“Well, chief, looks like ya ain’t got a choice seeing as I already know about it now,” Billy grins wolfishly.

Hopper’s lip curls and he shoots a sideways glare at Steve. “Mhm,” he murmurs.

Steve rubs the back of his head and whistles nonchalantly. “You told everyone about  _ Betty, _ Hop, I figured maybe I should pay you back.”

“Who's Betty?” Billy throws eyes Steve's way, and Steve ignores him, pretending like it’s jealousy he’s hearing in the tone of his voice.

Eleven sits next to Billy and grabs at him. Steve cackles to himself, watching Billy squirm at the girl burying her face against the bare skin of his exposed chest, awkwardly patting her back in response and seeing Mike fuming across the room.

Eleven reaches up, flicking Billy's earring. “Why?”

Billy pauses, looking around at all of the eyes on him. He really  _ really  _ doesn't like children, but he feels like in this situation he can't possibly be a dick. “I just...like it I guess,”

She reaches over to her plate, offering him a cold eggo that she made before the movie started.

“The sacred meal! No!” Dustin shrieks, and Mike suddenly storms off into the bathroom, slamming the door. 

“Mike is upset.” Eleven tells Billy, who is sitting cross legged across from her, munching the waffle.

He stops chewing for a second. “Am I supposed to…?” 

Hopper and Steve both shrug. “I mean, maybe if you just explain…”

Billy makes a face and stands up, dusting crumbs off his jeans, mumbling to himself, “explain what? That I'm not interested in a fucking little girl? Jesus Christ, what have I gotten myself into…”

Billy can hear echoes of laughter from Lucas and Dustin behind him as he makes his way over to the door. He knocks.

“Hey kid, it's uh, it's Billy. Will you open up quick?”

“Screw you!”

Billy taps his foot impatiently. He throws evil eyes over his shoulder, mouthing a ' _ what the hell’ _ before shaking his head and putting his hands up in defeat.  “Look, I just wanna talk,” he sighs. He's trying to keep his cool but in reality he wants to kick the door down and smack the fucking kid for being a whiny little bitch.

The door swings open forcefully and Mike yelps in shock. Billy steps back and locks eyes with Eleven, who smiles shyly at him.

He cautiously enters the room and corners Mike. “Listen to me, little dude. I don't know what your deal is but -”

“My deal is that you hurt people! You're mean to Max and you tried to kill Lucas and I won't let you hurt Eleven!” He starts swatting at Billy, who holds his arm up and just lets Mike hit him. 

Billy bites his lip a little. The kid wasn't wrong - he  _ was _ mean to them all. “I'm not gonna hurt her,” he says softly. “I promise.” 

Mike's anger subsides a little bit. “You can't break a promise,” he kicks Billy in the shin and he winces. His patience was definitely being tested today.

“I won't break the damn promise, now will you just cool down for a second? Jesus!” he reaches down and rubs his leg. “And I don't know what your issue is but just because she likes my hair doesn't mean that she doesn't like  _ you _ . I'm way too old for her, little Wheeler, don't worry.”

Mike side eyes Billy. “I just got her back,”

Billy scoffs. “I'm not gonna steal your girlfriend,” he growls. “Now get out there and fucking apologise for being a dickhead. It's not cool to be a whiny freak.”

Mike makes an annoyed face, but listens and follows Billy nonetheless.

“I'm sorry for being a dickhead,” he crosses his arms, looking annoyed.

Hopper raises his eyebrows.

“His words, not mine,” Billy tosses in.

“It's okay, we know Billy is an asshole. Don't sweat it.” Lucas says, and Billy forces an ugly smile that turns into more of a grimace, feeling the heat from everyone’s judgment upon him.

Hopper turns to Steve, who's biting his nails anxiously. “Never thought I'd see Hargrove being nice to kids,”

Steve shoots him an icy glare. “Yeah, he hates children in general, I think.”

Hopper shifts his weight. “Look, I was just talking to Joyce and she asked about you. In case you hadn't noticed, she's a little obsessive over her kids and you have essentially become one of them.”

Steve lowers his voice. “So you tell her about my goddamn love life?”

Or lack thereof, rather.

Hopper shrugs. “I don't know! It just came out. Relax, it's not that big of a deal. Everyone has those times in their life,”

Steve rolls his eyes and leaves the chief in the dust. He instead approaches Billy, who is standing across from the couch, being bombarded by Eleven’s fascination and Mike's anger. He leans over and rests his chin on Billy's shoulder. “You're being nice. It's scary.”

Eleven grins and mimics Steve, instead resting her head against Mike's arm. The smiles spread across the sofa, each kid laughing softly and resting their head against the next. 

Steve can feel Billy's cheek rise in a grin against his own, and in that moment he wishes he could just kiss his cheek and wrap his arms around the other boy. He feels a little bit of sadness, but it's short-lived as he takes in so many smiling faces.

They wrap everything up, Max finds her chain and she departs with Billy, getting into the Camaro ahead of him. Steve heads to his car as well, waving to the kids as they pile into Hopper's truck. He shoots eyes at Billy, who looks back at him with no expression for a moment before getting into his car and slamming the door.

No expression is better than anger, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally the beginning of billy actually getting to know the kids a little bit!!!! sorry it feels like it's been taking forever??? in my document this is page 52/130 (and im not done yet oops) so y'all in store for some more good shit. not that im a good writer but basically there's a lot more. thanks lmao


	10. Chapter 10

A couple of weeks later, Steve gets in his BMW and throws his book bag in the back seat. He starts the engine, heaving a sigh. As he's backing up, he looks over his shoulder, seeing a familiar blue Camaro skidding around the corner at speeds clearly exceeding the limit. He gets out of his car, patience being tested already so early in the morning and watches as Billy practically leaps out of his. He runs up, clumsily grabbing Steve by his collar of his jacket.

“Harrington!!” He's shaking Steve. “It’s an emergency!”

Steve is dumbfounded. “What!? What’s an emergency?”

Billy is clearly rattled. “It’s Max’s birthday and I didn’t get her a goddamn gift!”

Steve brings his hand up and smacks Billy as hard as he can. A little bit to stop him from rambling and a little because he's Billy and Billy gives him heartburn.

“What the fuck was that for!?” Billy reels, hand clutching his cheek, burning hot.

“You scared the shit out of me, you fucking dickhead!” Steve is flaming, turning away to try to get into his car again but Billy reaches out and grabs his shoulder.

“You have to help me, Harrington,” Billy pleads, looking extremely disheveled over something so simple and it’s making Steve pity him. “I’m trying to...be better. I want to try to be a good brother. Please.”

The brunette pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, tossing a look back at his house. “Drive to school and we'll go from there,” Hoping that his mom and dad aren't watching him talk to the other boy, he scans the windows. “My parents are home today.” 

Billy nods in acceptance and they both get in their respective vehicles.

 

Pulling up to the high school, Steve sees Nancy and Jonathan waving to him, and he really doesn't want to deal with their bullshit today. And he most  _ definitely _ doesn’t want to explain why he parked at the school to just leave immediately with Billy. Choosing to not be petty, he waves back as Billy grabs his arm and practically yanks him to the Camaro. Confusion forms on their face as Steve gets into the car and  the two boys drive away at a high speed.

It would be a lie to say that Steve isn't fearing for his life. As cool as Billy's Camaro is, muscle cars are not made to be driven in winter. He has an extreme lack of trust in Billy's driving on dry land, and the thought of Billy's driving in the snow or ice has his stomach tying itself into a square knot. Add a rear-wheel drive car to the mix and get impending doom.

Motley Crue is blaring from Billy's stereo and Steve reaches to turn it down, not feeling particularly like a metal head at the moment. Billy is obviously offended, a look of sheer terror appearing on his face. “What the hell are you doing Harrington!?”

Steve slams his hand on his thigh. “Trying to fucking understand!” He has to yell over the guitar riffs, and the intense music isn't helping him calm himself at all.

“Okay, yeah, fine.” Billy turns the music off and exhales, switching his attention between Steve and the road. He hesitates before finally spitting words out. “I really want to try to be a better uh...brother.”

Steve snorts a little because watching Billy be all serious was giving him the giggles. “You’re a terrible brother.” 

“I’m fucking serious, Harrington.”

Steve contemplates Billy's previous question about getting Max a gift. “What the fuck do junior high school girls like?”

Billy hits his hand on the steering wheel. “You think if I fucking knew I'd be asking YOU for help, Harrington? Are you fucking joking?” He pulls out a cigarette from the pack in his chest pocket and lights it. “I fucking hate kids,  you should know this by now.”

Steve rolls his eyes, snatching the cigarette from Billy’s lips. He looks at Steve with a little bit of shock, but it quickly melts into a tiny smile shortly after. “You’re like best friends with El, right?” He can see Billy’s expression harden out of the corner of his eyes. “Can’t you just ask your dad or step-mom?”

Billy takes a long drag and sighs. “Gee, douche, let me just really quick pay Neil a visit at work and ask him.”

“Yeah? So? Ask Susan. Maybe they’re taking her out for dinner and you don’t have to get a gift.”

“You’re completely ignoring the goddamn part where I’m trying to be nice! Can’t you just fucking help? You will not convince me that you don’t know anything about Maxine or her dumb friends. And Jesus Christ, as if my fucking father is going to take her out for dinner.”

Steve sits in silence for a second before jumping topics. “Can we talk about it?” 

“Talk about fucking what?”

“What happened in the showers.” Steve whispers, regret pooling inside of him, immediately unsure why the words left his mouth.

Billy doesn't say anything. Seizing the cigarette back from Steve, he flicks his ash out the window and suddenly pulls off the side of the road. He turns to Steve and grabs him by the hair, the heat from the grit in Billy’s fingers nearly burning his skin. “Why would you ask me that? Do you really just want me to tell you  _ again _ that I don’t return your freaky feelings?” he barks, words dripping with malice.

Steve doesn't reply. Billy's right, he can't believe he just asked him that. He feels uncomfortable and he shouldn't have said anything of the sort because the fact was that he was only hurting himself. He doesn't think when he's around Billy - Billy just makes him so fucking angry that garbage just flows out of his  mouth and he ends up making himself feel like shit in the process.

“That's what I thought.” Billy tosses his cigarette and blows the remaining smoke directly in Steve's face. 

After driving literally nowhere recklessly for half of an hour - probably just to get out some of Billy's frustration - Steve casually suggests to go to the mall in the city. The drive to Indianapolis is decently long and boring, and thanks to Steve’s awkward attempt at trying to discuss matters Billy clearly never wanted to think about for the rest of his existence, the air was suffocating them. 

“Why are you lying to me?”

Steve reaches for the volume control again, turning down Billy’s Quiet Riot, prompting yet another angry response. “Harrington, I don't really want to deal with your shit right now,” He reaches to turn the music back up but Steve pushes his hand away, Billy shooting him a death glare.

“ _ Why are you lying to me _ ? You wouldn’t be asking me to do these things with you if you didn’t care about me.” Steve stares at the blond, who is clenching his fists on the steering wheel. “Why don't you just admit that you're a fucking human? You don't have to be an asshole all the time! You're not as bad as -”

Billy turns to him and screams, “And what the fuck do you know about me!?” His eyes dart back and forth between Steve and the road. “You don't know  _ shit _ . You just said like an hour ago that I’m a terrible brother and you're fucking right.” His jaw stiffens, “I’m a terrible person in general.”

Steve pauses for a moment, shifting his glance from the passenger window to Billy’s side profile. “You weren't an asshole when you held me before you threw me into the pool,” He studies the lines on Billy’s face - defined jaw, perfect nose slope, lips parted ever so slightly. His hair a little unruly, but kind of cute. The way his adam’s apple moves when he doesn’t know what to say, the way his cheekbones cast a little shadow against his skin and his eyelashes - Steve decides there’s never been a man with better eyelashes.

Billy doesn't look at him. “I didn't just  _ hold you,  _ ya fuckin’ moron, you make it sound like -”

Steve isn't finished. “You weren't a jerk when you made cookies with me in the early morning hours.” He's staring Billy down with his stupid deep dark eyes. “You weren't a prick when you comforted Eleven at the Byers’. You called her pretty. She'll never forget that,”

Billy turns to him with a look on his face that Steve can't quite place. “You make me sound like I'm not a monster,” he says softly, stiffness fading away.

“You aren't a monster. You're a human being with an ego complex and and a shitty moral compass, but you're still a fucking living breathing person, Billy,” Steve crosses his legs and leans his head against the window, closing his eyes and adjusting himself; Billy wasn’t going to respond to him, and he knows it.

Focused on the road, playing metal music quietly in the background, Billy sits wordless. He supposes that maybe they  _ should _ talk about what happened between them.  _ Everything _ that has happened between them. Because no matter what Billy tells himself, Steve is right. He does care. 

Maybe.

Probably.

Sort of.

He looks over at the other boy a few times during the next fifteen minutes, watching him drift out of consciousness. Now asleep, Steve is leaning sideways against the car door, hair disheveled and face scrunched up against the glass. 

“Pretty,” Billy whispers to himself.

 

The drive feels a lot longer than it really is and Billy blasts Metallica and Led Zeppelin. To his knowledge, Steve doesn't wake up at all, which Billy is thankful for. He'd rather perform his constant singing and mimicking of guitar solos to an audience of none.

When they finally arrive in Indianapolis, Billy is strangely comforted by the tall buildings surrounding him. It's not a gigantic city by any means, but it sure as hell is bigger than Hawkins and feels a little more like home to him.

He taps Steve on the arm, jolting him awake. “Wake up, sleeping beauty,”

Steve fidgets and pushes himself up, arching his back in a stretch. “Ugh, I slept like the dead, even if it was for only a few minutes...”

“Look at that hair,” Billy laughs a little and runs his hand through Steve's hair, apparently much to his surprise. He turns to Billy, gawking at him with his chestnut eyes as big as the moon.

“Who are you and what have you done with Billy?” Steve asks suspiciously, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Fuck you, Harrington. You must've convinced me I was a nice guy or something,” Billy pulls up into the front lot of a gas station and puts the car in park before throwing a paper object at Steve. “Find the mall on the map. I had a hard enough time trying to figure out how the fuck to get here after your ass passed out, so you’re on navigation now.”

A tapping noise comes from the window and Billy and Steve look up to see a group of three girls on Billy’s side of the car. He rolls the window down, tossing a look back to Steve before raising his eyebrows at the strangers.

“Hm...nice car,” one of them winks at Billy, who in turn runs his tongue along his teeth and nods.

“Thanks, doll,” He rests his arm on the steering wheel as one of them pokes her head in.

“Who’s this over here?” She looks to Steve, pointing a polished finger at him.

“We’re not from here. But thanks anyhow,” Steve spits, obviously unamused at their interest. 

One of the other girls reaches in and ruffles her hand in Billy’s hair. “You’re straight up  _ hot _ .” She growls seductively, and Billy leans his head back against the seat, cackling.

Steve’s blood is boiling as he watches Billy eat up all of their flirtations. He wants more than anything to have the telekinetic ability to roll Billy’s window up and run the bitches over. He studies the messy hair on the back of Billy's head, as he's caressing their cheeks and flexing his biceps for them. Billy suddenly turns to look at him, a curious expression in his eyes.

“Do you wanna?” Realising Billy is speaking to him, Steve snaps out of his bubble, blinking a few times. 

“Uhh,” he hesitates, unsure of what Billy was asking but pretty confident that whatever it was, he  _ didn’t _ wanna.

“You know.”

No, he doesn’t fucking know.

One of the girls makes a purring noise behind Billy, putting her hands on her hips. “Okay, well I’ll take that as a no,” The blond boy averts his attention back to the three outside as they giggle and head back to their own car. “I will though. I’ll meet you in a few minutes.”

“What the fuck was that?” Steve shoots angrily.

“Are you fucking deaf or what?” Billy rolls his eyes, turning his music up only to be silenced once again by Steve. “Will you quit fucking touching that? Shotgun privileges do not include stereo control!”

“You are not seriously going to meet up with them. We’re here to get your sister a fucking birthday present!”

Billy shrugs, smiling slyly.  “I have needs, Harrington. And quite frankly, they’re hotter than the cows back in Hawkins.” 

Steve is in disbelief. “You don’t even know how old they are! What if they’re like 40!?”

“I don’t give a fuck, you idiot. Pussy is pussy,” He rolls his eyes, as if what he was saying was common knowledge. 

“How dare you? Bring me home. Right now.” Steve is well aware that he sounds like a whiny loser, but he’s not about to make it seem like it’s okay for him to be sitting out in the cold and waiting while his companion is railing some randomers.

“Look, just because I’m not gay like you are doesn’t mean that -”

“Stop it! You’re absolutely fucking ridiculous!” Steve lets his head fall to his hands and groans loudly. He’s nagging nonstop for the next ten minutes, and before he realises where they’re going, they’ve pulled up into the parking lot of a Sears. 

“Let’s go.” Billy says plainly, slamming the door and cutting off any sort of noise Steve might have been making in response.

“What? Are you going to meet your bimbos afterward?”

Billy stops walking and throws his hands down. “Will you honestly just shut your fucking mouth, Harrington? You’re annoying as hell. If you seriously think that I was considering going with them, you’re batshit crazy.” He resumes his voyage,  stomping his feet with each step.

“Finally grew a conscience, huh? Maybe thought that perhaps your sister’s birthday is more important than some cougar crotch? That -”

Billy spins around and points a finger at Steve. “Fuck you, Harrington,” He drags his pinky down his cheek, mimicking a tear. “You burn my soul, thinking I would cheat on you like that.”

Steve stares blankly for a second before his anger reignites. “Billy, really? I get that you don’t feel the same but you can’t just make fun of me like that. If you’re trying to be a nicer person then maybe you should think about -”

Billy suddenly grabs his shoulders, grip firm. “Maybe it’s not like that,” He releases his grasp,  running a hand through his hair and exhales sharply. “Have you ever thought maybe I do shit to get a reaction outta you? Like, do you think? Ever? Use your damn brain, huh?”

“You know what?” Steve raises his eyebrows and pokes a finger into Billy’s chest. “You’re a prick and I’m so tired if it!” He takes a step closer to him. “I try to give to you and all you do is take and take and you always make me feel like shit!”

Steve watches Billy's face closely, but his expression is stone-cold. He gets a feeling of deja vu, thinking back to the day Billy shot him down the first time after their cookie kiss.

“Back in October, I had a girlfriend. I was straight as fuck and I thought this Billy kid from California was just some asshole who liked to pick on me. Imagine my fucking surprise.” Steve feels himself start to get  queasy. “After all of the shit I've been through recently, yeah, it's a little fucking weird. A  _ lot _ fucking weird. And I don't know...I don't understand it,” he taps his foot, angry at himself for not knowing what to say.

He side-eyes Billy, who’s still sitting there blankly.

“I-I should have known all those times...when you were mean to me... or when you teased me in the locker rooms or when…” Steve stops himself and takes a deep breath. “I should have known when I realised that I was excited about you coming over and I shoulda known when you were at my house and you...you fucking licked chocolate off my lips and,” he pauses, looking at Billy, and he starts to feel a completely different kind of sick. “You kissed me in the showers, Billy, it felt nice...to me, I just…”

Billy's eyes are hollow and he's just  _ staring _ at Steve, unbreaking, just giving him a weird uneasy look.

“I should have known that...you were lying to yourself. That maybe you... feel...kinda weird about me too..?” 

Billy closes his eyes for what feels like the longest time ever and when he opens them, he makes a face - a face that sets every warning signal off in Steve's mind. He slowly shakes his head. “...No, I don't, Steve. I wasn't lying to you when I told you I  don't feel shit for you.”

Steve huffs out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. “W-what?” He feels his eyes start to water - he  _ knows _ Billy has told him multiple times that he doesn’t have romantic feelings for him. Yet  every fucking time Billy would as much as  _ breathe _ in his direction, he felt like maybe it wasn’t the truth. Maybe he really did like him too.

Maybe not.

“...You’re nothing to me, Steve.”

_ Steve. _ There it was again. Steve. His name being used like a weapon.

“I’m...nothing to you?” Steve’s knees start to buckle.

“We barely know each other. We’ve talked a bit lately, but that doesn’t mean we’re friends or anything,” Billy says dejectedly.

“Oh,” Steve’s nose scrunches up as he feels hot tears fighting their way to leave his eyes.

Not even friends? Not after spending the night together and listening to music and talking about classic novels? Not after speaking of dreams and memories? He’d assumed that despite hostilities, that they were friends - that maybe Billy just didn’t like to admit it.

“I guess maybe I thought that we could...be friends,” The words are coming out choked up, and Steve hates himself for it. Hates that he’s consistently being knocked down and weak. Not anything at all? No feeling of attraction when they were touching their bare bodies against one another, lips pressed together and fingers intertwined in the locker room?

Billy turns his attention to the doors to the mall, “Well,” refusing to look at Steve. “...You thought wrong.” 

And he just leaves Steve standing there.  _ Just standing there _ , so forlorn, so lost, but so blindly awake. Billy was completely correct. They barely knew each other and Steve was trying to cling to him as if they’d been through hell and back. Less than two months ago, Billy almost  _ killed _ him. That feeling of anger doesn’t change overnight. And quite frankly, it probably wouldn’t ever change. How could he expect someone who hated him so much to just forget about his hatred? 

But Billy had said he didn't hate Steve. He said he was just feeling out of place. Was Billy honest about anything he had said to Steve? It was his own fault - he  _ knew Billy was hot and cold.  _  He knew it. 

Of all people,  Steve should know that kissing someone doesn't seal any sort of deal. Shit, having sex with someone doesn't seal any deal - clearly - but it felt like he was where he needed to be when he was next to Billy Hargrove and he abhors himself for having those feelings.

He thinks back to Tina’s Halloween party; he went with Nancy.

Nancy. 

So beautiful and so radiant. He had never given her those flowers he had meant to apologise with.

At the party, Billy...fucking Billy had seen him from across the room and parted the people like the red sea to get to him and threaten him. How naive could Steve have been, thinking that the person who did that wanted to be  _ friends  _ with him? At the same party, he recalls Nancy being so drunk and telling him their relationship was all a lie and that loving him was bullshit.

He shakes his head, remembering one of the worst days of his life. He should have known better than to think that anyone wanted to be close to him. His girlfriend had essentially lied to him for over an entire year, telling him that she loved him while in fact her heart belonged to Jonathan Byers - and you know what? Good for them. Good for Nance for following her heart and finding her soulmate.

And  he shakes his head at the fact that the only friends he had left were those two - the two at the center of his  heartbreak. He wondered what kind of garbage they talked behind his back. Called him names, told his secrets, probably. He wondered if Jonathan was treating her with respect while they laid in bed together. He wondered if Nancy would wear Jonathan’s sweatshirts and tease him and cup his cheek like she used to do to Steve.

And he is alone. So alone.

Steve rubs his wet eyes and scrunches his nose up in disgust. He reluctantly follows Billy’s trail  into the mall, quickly locating the bathroom and parting roads from him. In the restroom, he turns the water on at the sink, letting his head fall to his hands and sobs, cries drowned out by the faucet.

After so much anguish in the past few months, one would think that Steve would rid himself of all of the toxicity but here he remains. So much hope constantly crushed under the bootheels of every single person he found himself (unfortunately) caring about. Is it better to be alone and not have hurtful people around him or is it better to have shitty friends? To have  _ any friends _ ? He shifts his attention to his reflection in the mirror in front of him. He doesn't look like a high school senior, he looks like he’s aged twenty years in the span of only twenty minutes. He feels like he’s seeing himself for the first time, noticing all of his flaws. He pokes the dark bags under his eyes that have become obvious to him now, takes note of his crow's feet.

Leaving the mall, Steve crouches on the sloppy slushy ground next to Billy’s Camaro and waits for him outside. His light jacket isn’t enough to keep him warm out in Indiana’s winter weather, but it’s definitely taking his mind into a different realm of suffering at least.

What feels like three hours passes before he sees Billy exiting the doors with a bag. “The fuck is up your ass now, Harrington?” Billy is emotionless when they get in the car.

Steve ignores his taunts. As if he didn’t have a single fucking clue what was 'up his ass'. Not replying was the least he could do, since he was nothing to Billy.

 

The car ride is silent and awkward and tense and Steve hates it. He lets Billy do literally all of the talking, rambling on endlessly about everything under the sun. Steve doesn’t consume a word of it, letting it all flow in one ear and out the other. Billy eventually catches on that Steve wants nothing to do with him and cranks his music once again. When he turns the volume up, he looks over at the brunette as if he’s trying to lure a response out of Steve - as if he’s expecting Steve to turn it back down.

But he doesn’t.

The air is so thick with tension that Steve feels like he's being hotboxed. His eyes shift over to Billy in his peripheral, not turning his head in an effort to not show interest. He's staring off in the distance, jaw clenched tightly, but his expression is  soft and a little bit sad. They’ve finished the last of Billy’s cassettes and he doesn’t replay any of them and doesn’t fiddle with the radio. No noise except the hum of the engine and the occasional blinker.

“I just can't understand you.” Steve says finally, and Billy rolls his head over to look at Steve with the most uninterested look he's ever seen plastered all over his face. 

“Don't even fucking start talking to me now like you didn't just ignore me purposely. I don't need your bullshit.”

Bullshit.

The word still pricks Steve a little every time he hears it.

“Like for real. What are you? My mom? My daddy hits me and my momma's dead so I get  _ you _ for a shitty replacement huh?” 

He's drumming on the steering wheel to the beat of silence, and Steve is starting to feel a little bit fidgety.

“King Steve - what a mess.” Billy isn't done. “King Steve got left in the dust by the love of his life Ms. Nancy, and now he's not so sure who he is anymore,”

Billy pauses for a moment before suddenly turning and yelling right in Steve's face.

“Fuck you, Harrington! You're a fucking  _ WRECK, no WONDER NOBODY WANTS YOU!”  _  He shouts with such animosity that it breaks the dam. Steve wouldn't admit that he's a crybaby, but Billy's voice is filled with such disdain that he can't help it. Tears push their way past the barrier and fall, Steve wiping his sleeve across his cheeks instantly to try to avoid the other boy seeing.

Billy pulls into another gas station, this time to fill up the tank. Steve sits in the car, sulking. He scans the area, eerily silent as he watches Billy approach the building to pay for the fuel. His eyes land on a commotion through the window, and Steve feels his heart sink as he realises what’s going on - the gas station is being held up. 

There's no time to think -  Steve quickly unfastens his seatbelt and jumps out of the car, but by the time he does, the robber is flying out the door. Billy, in the opposite of Billy fashion, has clearly made the split-second decision to try to apprehend the thief and be a hero. He dashes forward, watching their struggle. Steve wraps his arms around the perpetrator’s neck in an attempt to help Billy. And in  _ definite _ Steve fashion, his time to shine is cut short by the robber breaking out of his headlock and pistol-whipping Steve unconscious. 

 

When he wakes up, it’s to the feeling of cold hands touching his forehead. He jeers when he sees a paramedic in front of him. 

“Billy...where’s…”

“He’s right over there. Let me help you,” the man replies, grabbing Steve forcefully as he tries to escape his clutches.

“I need to see him...Billy..”

The paramedic holds him firm. “Relax, kid, you’re going to ride with him, no worries,” He helps Steve, who’s still a little bit woozy and out of sorts get to the ambulance.

Steve feels his heart sink when he sees Billy laying on the gurney with his bandaged head laying on a bloodstained pillow.

“What…” Steve feels like he’s starting to faint, and he’s grabbed from behind. His head rolls back and to make matters even worse, he locks eyes with Hopper before he falls unconscious.


	11. Chapter 11

Steve has been asleep in spurts in the hospital waiting room because time feels like it's standing still and quite frankly, the guilt combined with the harsh hospital lighting is making him nauseous. He was always feeling guilty for shit that wasn't his fault - he  _ knows _ it isn't his fault but he can't help but feel responsible nonetheless.

He’s woken up abruptly to someone calling his name. He thinks for a second that his body has been deprived of all senses when he sees Hopper and Eleven coming towards him in a brisk run.

“What the hell, kid?!” Hopper sits down next to Steve and Steve cannot believe this is happening.

“H-How did you…” he hesitates before looking at Eleven, who nods at him. He runs his hands all over his face. “Billy's hurt, Hop.” He mumbles, still waking up from his dozing.

“Yeah, I got that, thanks.” Hopper replies, words dripping with hostile sarcasm. “His dad is worried sick.”

“Oh, I'm sure daddy Hargrove is so upset,” Steve growls, picking at his fingernails. 

“Steve, listen to me,” Hopper grabs his shoulder firmly. “You need to tell me what happened.”

“W-we got into a fight, okay? Then he stopped to get gas and...it was being robbed. The gas station. Billy tried to fight the guy and I ran to him and the crook knocked me out and…”

Hopper stares at him for a moment before the nurse approaches and he leaves with her.

Eleven touches Steve's chest. “Worried,” she says softly.

“Yeah, really worried,” he replies. Also sick, disgusted with himself, angry, feeling like crying. “How uh, how was the drive here?”

“Fast. Jim used the lights.”

Steve chuckles a little bit at the thought of Hopper speeding through waves of cars, driving all the way up here to deal with Steve and Billy’s dumb choices.

Almost on cue, Hopper comes around the corner with a vengeance and grabs Steve by the jacket collar, pulling him into the side hallway and continuing where he'd left off. “I can’t believe you two tried to stop an  _ armed robber _ ! You could have died!” Hopper seethes, and Steve swears if he was any more angry he'd be foaming at the mouth. “You can't be doing this shit!” he sighs, rubbing his forehead. “I had Billy's car towed back to my house. And that's a pretty damn hefty bill, which you're going to pay me back for.” He shoves his fingers into his eyes in rage. “Jesus kid.” 

“As if I don't feel bad enough, okay?!”

“I sure hope you do feel bad! It was a  _ bad choice! _ ”

“Billy didn’t see the guy! I had to get out, what was I supposed to do!?” Steve is pissed off. 

“He’s got blood flooding his brain.”

Steve feels suddenly breathless. “I...what?” He reaches for anything to steady himself and finds solace in a garbage can. He slides down to the floor, feeling winded.

Hopper doesn’t respond to him yet, just collects Eleven and sits down in the waiting area in the hallway. He holds his arm out, signaling Steve to join them. “Let's just hang here for awhile, okay? It's going to be okay. He's just going to spend the night. He's got a concussion and they need to monitor it and make sure it's controlled by the morning.”

Steve doesn't want to be anywhere near the chief, still a little bitter about Betty and a little more in shock about Billy. But he approaches anyway, allowing himself to lean into Hopper's  free arm, the other one around Eleven. And he sobs, god, he  _ sobs _ , letting out an ugly noise he'd never admit to making.

The rest of the night creeps by, the three of them in silence. Once Hopper and Eleven are both asleep, Steve opens the door to Billy's room quietly. He shoots a glance both ways, unsure if he's supposed to be in there or not, so he walks as if he's on eggshells.

He silently nears the side of the bed and pulls the chair from the corner up next to it. He runs his hand across Billy's cheek; He looks so calm in the darkness of the room, lit only by the light of the moon coming in through the window. Billy's skin is lukewarm, and Steve longs to feel his heat as he had previously, his warmth usually radiating off of him like a glow.

The boy lay still, so still, and Steve feels like his insides are in the middle of a civil war. He traces his finger along Billy's face, still slightly golden from the sun before his move, but Steve can tell the California native is becoming paler from his time in Hawkins. It's bizarre, he thinks, but it almost makes him seem more human. More like a different person.

Suddenly, Steve feels a hand on his shoulder. A small hand. He turns around to see Eleven. He smiles softly at her. “Hey...sorry. I don’t know if I’m supposed to be in here and -”

“You love him.”

Steve feels like he's been sucker punched, a completely different type of shock than getting smacked over the head with a gun like he had earlier; the force of her words felt so physically exhausting, draining,  _ painful _ . “W-what? What makes you say -”

Turning his attention back to Billy, he feels his mind slipping from his body as he contemplates his entire life for a moment. So beautiful even unconscious - blond hair all strewn about and messy and his eyebrows not angry in the slightest and oh  _ shit _ , those eyelashes. And here Steve sits. Next to him, feeling so broken and hurt at the sight of Billy this way. 

As much as he wants to dismiss Eleven and make a joke and forget he ever heard what she'd said, there's no point. Maybe she was right - maybe he wasn't feeling nauseated at the sight of Billy or anxious any time they touched - he was feeling butterflies. Billy makes him mad, so angry and so upset and Steve knew that he was confused and lost about his feelings but to hear someone unrelated say the words to him was throwing him for a loop.

“Love...him? Billy?” Steve murmurs dumbly, taking a strand of Billy's dirty blond locks between his fingers. 

He never could recall having the feeling before - butterflies. Not even with Nancy. Nancy was beautiful and bold and so good, but he never felt  _ stronger _ around her - never felt whole or unstoppable -  he spent all this time pining for a girl he thought he had been in love with only to have his life take a major twist and start to lead him on a journey of self discovery he never thought he'd  _ ever  _ have to take.

Steve's heart aches at the sight of the bandages taped to the side of Billy's head. Suddenly realising that he's alone and that El is gone, he gets up to leave, sliding the chair back across the room. As he takes the door knob in his hand, he glances around once more before quickly creeping back over to the boy in the bed. 

“You'd kill me if you heard that,” he whispers and runs his thumb across Billy's chin. He  plants a light kiss on his lips, letting a laugh escape him. “And you'd  _ definitely _ kill me if you knew I did that.” He frowns. “I'll tell you that I did it though, when you wake up. Sometime. And if you yell at me and tell me you don't like me again…” he forces a smile, “...That's fine, because I can take it. You make me strong.” He sniffles, rubbing his nose a little.

He trudges over to the corner and sits down for a second, trying to calm his anxious breathing. He runs a hand through his hair and he’s feeling so many emotions at the moment that he can't place any of them at all, can't name them, can't tell what they are - they’re just  _ overwhelming _ .

“You make me stronger, Billy, it's the truth,” Steve whispers, feeling like he's just swallowed a billiard ball. “So I need to be strong enough to know my limits. I can't do this anymore.” 

He continues talking to himself, a little angry and a lot sad. He sounds pathetic and he knows it, acting like he's breaking up with this unconscious person as if the two were a real life item. As if they were dating. As if they were exclusive. As if Billy even fucking liked him.

“I can't keep getting jerked around back and forth like this. I've been trying to break free from shitty people and... and you're just like them. I don't deserve to be treated the way you treat me, Billy. I deserve better, and I gotta try to heal in a way that's not throwing myself at you only to get knocked down,” Standing up and heading towards the door, he bites his lip a little. “And you deserve better, too. You deserve to _ get _ better. But I guess I don't help you at all - and for that I'm sorry. I wish I could take the strength you have given me and give it right back.” He brings two fingers to his mouth, pressing his lips to them and holding them up in the air towards the boy sleeping in the bed. 

Taking his leave of the room, he sits down right where he had been previously in the hallway. Eleven leans out over the snoozing Hopper and smiles at Steve, and he grins back sheepishly before trying to get a little more shut-eye. He needs to make sure his fucking idiot self stays true to his decision in the coming days.

 

The next morning, Steve wakes up alone in the waiting area in the hallway, surrounded by empty chairs. He hears the door click and sees Hopper come through, with an extremely plain expression on his face. The drop in Steve's stomach turns, though, when he sees Eleven skip through the door, doing a little dance and giggling. Behind her trails Billy with his hand on his head - laughing with her despite looking a little uncomfortable and in pain.

Billy.

Steve sees him with newly opened eyes, an entirely different aura surrounding him. And he's happy. So happy, so in bliss at the sight of him walking and looking like he's going  to be okay. Billy looks over to him and he's never seen Billy with such a soft expression except for when he's unconscious. A tiny smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he walks over to Steve and reaches out his hand.

Steve takes Billy's hand in his and shakes it firmly. “I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, clasping his other hand around their already-interlocked extremities.

“Don't be,” Billy replies, grimacing. “I really kind of want to start over.” Steve wonders if the hit to his head gave him a split personality and he starts to rethink the conclusion he'd come to  the previous night. “And by the way...I never apologised for beating you senseless the night at the Byers'.”

“...What? Billy, I think you did. Besides, that was ages ago...”

“I wasn't being sincere. I am now,” 

Steve raises his eyebrows. “Wow, shows how trustworthy you are huh?”

He immediately regrets his decision to say that, to be sarcastic  _ now _ of all times as Billy's face falls and he walks over to Eleven. Steve hangs his head and puffs out his cheeks, a breath slipping out of him. 

_ It's okay. _

It's okay because he doesn't need Billy Hargrove's approval. He's  _ nothing _ to Billy, Steve is his own person and he's done being treated like a goddamn doormat. It's about time to heal. For real this time.

They check Billy out of the hospital an hour later, Hopper having to have a clearly uncomfortable conversation with Billy's dad over the phone.

Steve approaches Billy in his room, deciding to help him get sorted while El and Hop are outside. He places his hand on the tiny exposed bit of Billy's back from the rear of the gown. Billy's muscles tense upon his touch.

“What do you want?” Billy speaks quietly, and Steve doesn't answer him. He unties the gown, handing him his clothes. Billy turns to look at Steve, disdain filling his face.

“Were you awake last night when I came into your room?”

“No, I don't remember seeing you at all.” Billy says nonchalantly, dressing himself. 

Steve meets his eyes, and he loses himself a little bit in his gaze. “I...I kissed you while you were asleep.”

Billy bites his lip but doesn't frown. “Did you?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“That's cheap.”

Steve purses his lips. “Yeah, I know. I figured you'd be angry but I just -”

“I wanna be able to kiss you back.”

“-I ...what?” Steve flounders as Billy wraps his hands around his own, the second time that day that their hands were entangled. But it feels different.

“How do you feel?” Billy asks, taking his fingers up to Steve's head, running them lightly along his bruise.

“I'm okay...I'll be fine. But thank you.” Steve grabs Billy's hand and removes it from his face.

Hopper knocks against the already open door. “Are we ready to go?” 

In that moment, Steve hates Hopper with a burning passion, and by the time he looks back at Billy, he's moving on. And it's a good thing. Because Steve can't fucking trust himself around Billy.

 

Steve spends the entire drive home to Hawkins riding shotgun with Hopper while Billy and Eleven chat in the back seat. He avoids any conversation with Hopper by pretending to be asleep literally the entire ride. Billy sprawls out as much as he can in the back seat of Hopper’s truck, taking time telling Eleven all about his favourite books and letting her braid his hair.

“It's a comedy,” Billy explains. “It's about these people and some fairies. Puck is my favourite one.”

“Puck?” Eleven questions, eyes intent on learning. 

“Yeah, Puck. His real name is Robin. He's a prankster. He makes people laugh.”

“Like Billy,”

Billy smirks. “Not really, I'm not very funny,” he pokes El's nose.

She reaches up and cups her hands around his face. “You make me laugh, Billy.”

“Gee, kid, thanks. You're probably the only one ever!” He continues discussing  _ A Midsummer Night's Dream. _

“What are the other fairies’ names?”

“Well,” Billy crosses his legs and runs his fingers along his two braids. “There’s Oberon and Titania and Mustardseed and Peasblossom.” 

Steve hears Hopper let a little laugh loose, and Steve feels his heart fill up with happiness listening to their conversation as Billy teaches Eleven about Shakespeare's plays. He feels bad, thinking about how they’ve missed Max’s birthday, but he knows that it’s all going to be okay.

“Hey, would you mind playing this? Skip to the next track, too, please.” 

Steve fights the urge to look at what Billy is handing to Hopper, keeping up his slumbering facade.

“Sure, this album is great,” Steve hears Hopper pop in a cassette and then listens to him fast-forwarding it before a familiar intro sounds throughout the vehicle.

_ Smile _

_ An everlasting smile _

_ A smile can bring you near to me _

And in that exact moment, Steve feels like he can feel Billy’s eyes boring into the back of his skull. He knows Steve's awake, and he’s trying to send him a message.

Billy Hargrove had ruined his favourite song by playing it for him and then kissing him for the first time in one evening. Steve will always relate this song to that particular night - the night Billy had invited his damn self over and they’d made the cookies. Was he trying to use it as a peace offering? Because all Steve could think about was the way he felt hearing those words and looking at Billy. Not thinking anything of it, not caring that he felt a little too tipsy to be making rational choices as he’d asked Billy to get the chocolate off of his mouth for him. Cringing a little bit, he stirs and before he can play it off, Hopper notices him. 

“Well hey there, welcome back, huh?”

Steve nods, mumbling something incoherent and looking at Billy. The blond boy half-smiles at him and Steve feels like he can completely read his mind:  _ We need to talk _ .

Steve feels uneasy as he watches Billy get out of the truck. He turns back and waves, holding his plastic bag - his “nice” gift to his sister. Just as Hopper puts the truck in reverse, Steve tells him to wait.

“I'm just gonna get out here. I'll walk back to my car. Don't worry.”

“Give Billy a hug for me!” Eleven shouts as he exits the vehicle.

At the sound of the car door, Billy pauses. He turns around, carrying the obscure sized bag with a box in it that Steve can’t identify. “What are you doing, Harrington?”

“I just wanna talk a little, if that's okay,” Steve says, awkwardly adjusting his weight. He sees Billy contemplate him for a little bit before setting the bag down on the porch where there isn't any snow. 

“Alright, you have my attention. But hurry up, I need to get inside.”

“What are you eager for, hanging out with your dad?”

“Busted.” Billy smirks and it's a cute kind of smirk.

Steve steps forward cautiously, looking around to make sure that Hopper is far enough down the road before he pulls Billy into a hug. The other boy's muscles are tense throughout the entire embrace.

“Tell me,” Steve whispers, his chin nestled in the crook of Billy's neck. His hands are locked around Billy's waist, and eventually he feels Billy place his palm on his back lightly. 

“Tell you what?” He responds in equal volume.

“That you don't feel the same. Tell me I'm nothing to you.” He wants just one more confirmation before he can start to finally rip himself free from all of this toxicity.

Billy pulls away from Steve, scrunching his eyebrows as if he was angry - but Steve can tell it's not anger that Billy is feeling. “You're…” he points a finger at Steve. “...dumb.” Billy purses his lips, trying to hide a smile as he looks at his feet, kicking around the sloppy filth that's littering the ground. “See you around, Steve.” he grabs his bag and heads inside the house, and Steve can't help but let out an extremely embarrassing noise.

Steve.

Not a taunt, but a step.

Their whole adventure had been started by Billy seeking out someone to try to help him get a birthday present for his step-sister and ended with a some bloody hair and a concussion for Billy and a whole heaping helping of self-discovery for Steve. 

And maybe a little for Billy too.

Nothing could ever come easy, but it was a step.

And that step that finally came, the step that Steve had been yearning for, _for so goddamn long_ was a step in the wrong fucking direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the writing in this fic is sort of shitty, I usually try to be more creative but Idk.   
> Anyway, this fic is gonna reach 2000 hits soon and im ???? so thankful???? and shocked that people actually are READING IT!??? im gonna SCREAM you're all lovely and im so appreciative!!!! <3 <3 <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *tw for domestic abuse

The bruise on Steve's forehead has turned into a bump and faded to a sickly green color, but it's healing. Billy hasn't been at school for a week or so, and Steve knows technically he’s still injured but he’s uneasy about it regardless. He decides that maybe he should pay a visit to him later, since they left things on kind of okay terms, right?

But he shouldn’t. He should stay far away from Billy.

Far away.

It's a typical Wednesday and Steve is dreading his test in pre-calculus later in the week, but in truth it’s pretty much the last thing on his mind. He swirls a French fry around in a pool of ketchup on his tray, listening to Nancy bitch about how winter formal is in January and talking about Mike being annoying and also Jonathan talking about photography and other shit that Steve doesn't really give a flying fuck about.

He isn't paying attention to what they're saying exactly, as per usual, until they start talking about Billy. Naturally, his interest is peaked and he listens, but doesn't show his intent.

He regrets even starting to take notice of their conversation when they begin to talk about how there's no way Billy will ever change for the better. It doesn't take him long to decide that he's had enough of their garbage and he gets up and dispose of his lunch, heading to the library.

He can't focus whatsoever, dreading all of his afternoon courses. He jams his hands in his hair, sighing. He essentially ignores his textbook for the entirety of the rest of the period. Is  he acting like Nancy and Jonathan? Telling himself that Billy will never change so he has an excuse? To justify trying to keep to himself and isolate himself from the other boy? No, he’s trying to prevent himself from getting hurt again - and that’s that.

 

After school takes too long to arrive, and he drives past the Hargrove house at least four times before he finally gets the guts to pull up to the curb. He has a small panic attack, seeing both the Camaro and Neil's truck parked, and he really doesn't ever want to even see Mr. Hargrove’s face ever again but there's zero way that he's going to be able to focus on anything without knowing how Billy is doing. To know that he’s at least okay, and that he’s resting and his head is healing.

He stands at the front door for what feels like an actual decade but is really probably only a minute or two - his hand hovering above the doorbell. He finally gathers the courage to press it to no response. Right as he turns to leave, he hears the door open behind him and a voice that he has only heard once before.

“Can I help you?”

Steve turns to see Neil, smiling at him, looking like your average everyday father. His mustache is neatly groomed, he's dressed well, and looks generally pleasant. Steve's blood turns to freeze when he locks eyes with him.

“I...I'm here for...is Billy home?”

Neil forces a sick smile. “Why are you looking for him?”

“I need help with my AP physics homework…” 

The disgust in Mr. Hargrove's face turns to what appears to be genuine happiness at the mention of his son and a 'smart kid class’. “Wow, my son, helping out another student? Never thought I'd see that,” he's beaming suddenly, filled with toxic pride as if he finally had something to be proud of his son for.

“Yeah Billy is really smart, we got 100 percent on a project we did together. Saved my ass, let me tell you.” Steve grins, holding the straps of his backpack awkwardly, conveniently forgetting to mention the two percent off that was definitely his fault anyways.

“Dad? Who's at the door?” Billy pokes his head around the corner, “Harrington? What are you doing?” 

“I need help on my AP physics assignment.”

Billy cracks a grin. “This kid really doesn't know shit about physics. It's crazy.”

Truth. Steve wasn't even in regular level physics, and he  _ certainly  _  was not in advanced physics. 

Neil nods, opening the door a little wider, an indication for Steve to enter. He sees a woman sitting on the couch whom he can tell immediately is Max's mother, because, well, she wouldn't be anyone else but also because of her similar features. Steve greets her politely and then follows Billy to his room. He watches Billy gesture something out the door before closing it, probably making a silent contract with his father.

Taking a seat on Billy's extremely uncomfortable mattress, he watches Billy exhale heavily as he turns the lock on his door as quietly as possible. There's barely two seconds between the door being locked and Billy scrambling over to Steve at the edge of his bed, so close so fast that it nearly knocks the breath out of him.

Billy is studying him, eyes darting all over Steve's face. He can smell the cinnamon gum Billy has been chewing, and he wants nothing more than to bring those pink lips to his own, to kiss him with as much fire as he could possibly muster - and he wonders if maybe Billy is thinking the same thing. 

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Steve says softly as Billy slides off to the side of him, planting himself on his cardboard bed.

Billy cackles, running a hand through his hair. He looks a little different, Steve thinks, and he isn’t sure why. Maybe his hair is flatter. He hasn’t used any sort of product in his hair to heighten his curls. Maybe.

“How  _ are  _ you doing, Billy?”

His head is hanging back and Steve waits stiffly for a response. Billy is just staring at Steve, looking at him from underneath his pretty little eyelashes. “I’m better now.”

“Why now?”

“You’re here, aren’t cha?”

Steve reaches his fingers up to his mouth, biting his nails. “Oh,” So much for any sort of dominance he might have had. Steve was half happy, half sad about the recent developments between the two of them. Billy seemed to be being less of a dick - maybe getting assaulted by an armed robber does that to a man. But Steve felt like he was losing his grip on the situation - meaning that Billy was regaining power. And he couldn’t possibly have that. Billy being a little nicer now doesn’t mean he won’t completely turn on Steve in the next month. Hell, in the next five fucking  _ minutes. _

“I’m fine, you dork. Thank you for checking on me, though. I uh...I appreciate it. No one else cares. So it’s nice that you do,” Billy’s playing with his necklace, appears to be making some sort of weird motions with his mouth. Steve doesn’t see Billy act bashful or awkward very often, and it’s definitely pretty cute.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” Steve stutters, timidly closing his eyes and pretending that he wasn’t talking to anyone so he wouldn’t have to see Billy’s response to his words. He wants to slam his head on any rock hard surface, knowing that he was falling right back into the fucking quicksand pit.

Billy stands,  heading over to grab something from his shelf, completely ignoring Steve. Billy definitely heard and listened to what Steve had said, he was just choosing to not reply. Steve huffs out, a little bit angry at getting no response and also a little angry at how worked up Billy’s outfit was making him when he was trying to  _ quit _ these dumb feelings. He knows he's an idiot. He should have never come here.

The blond boy is wearing the absolute tightest jeans Steve’s ever seen in his life - the denim was even hugging his calves, all the way down to his ankles. And his shirt, a fucking tee shirt with the sleeves cut so Steve had to suffer seeing all of Billy’s muscly arms and his bare skin underneath.  _ God, _ was it weird to be feeling so anxious and frustrated at the sight of a  _ boy. _ It’s been taking some getting used to - accepting the fact that he was into other men, or at least one other man - and it didn’t help that he was completely useless around said other man.

But that’s why he needs to escape.

Billy is holding out something to him, but Steve is too preoccupied staring at his chiseled arms and taking in the tiny peek of his nipple from the view the shirt was providing. “You’re fucking hot,” Steve blurts out, and Billy retracts his reach, making a weird face at him.

“What?” He’s starting to laugh, and Steve feels his cheeks get heated.

“I didn’t mean to say that out loud,” Steve smacks his palm against his forehead, traumatised.

“Yeah right,” Billy rolls his eyes and throws a book at Steve. “You said that on purpose.”

After the initial shock and embarrassment, Steve finally comprehends what has just happened, staring at what was thrown at him. No insult from Billy? No ‘fuck you’? He sloppily grabs the book, which has fallen to the floor, and reads the cover.

“ _ Future Shock _ ?” 

“It’s a good book. I don’t know. I just figured maybe you’d like it.”

Steve arches an eyebrow at Billy. The blond leans up against the shelf and crosses his arms. “I still can’t get over the fact that you read. It blows my mind. You’re...perfect.”

Billy shakes his head, but he’s grinning. He reaches for his stack of albums. “What else am I gonna do with my free time? I don’t really have any friends. So I read for a little bit and then I jack off. I can only fuck myself so often you know.”

What?

“Maybe you shouldn’t do it by yourself,” 

_ Whaaaat? _

Billy drops the record he was about to put on and immediately tries to switch the conversation subject. “Can you believe that we only have a few months of school left?”  
Despite being mortified at the words that just came out of his mouth, Steve takes note of Billy’s dodge. “Uh, thank you for the book. I’ll read it.”

But what if Billy had replied back with another sexual insinuation? Steve’s stomach turns at the thought. Despite his self-realisations and his conversations with Hopper and Eleven, he still has yet to hear from  _ Billy _ as to whether he actually returns his feelings. And then - provided he feels the same - where would they even go from there? Be what, boyfriends? In conservative Hawkins? Nevermind the times they’d kissed or made remarks at each other or joked or touched or anything, really, because when it comes to admitting real feelings,  _ acting upon _ those feelings in a serious manner and not just trying to get a response out of the other - it was a completely foreign world. And it should be. Because Steve needs to move on and get over it. And he knows it.

Jumping topics completely, Billy places a hand on Steve’s shoulder, shaking him a little, but in a calm manner. “Thank you for telling me about Eleven. And including me. Despite everyone hating me still, I’m glad that I didn’t get burned at the stake at Jonathan’s house. And it’s because of you. You vouched for me.” he grabs his pack of cigarettes and heads to the window, opening it slightly and lighting one up. “We never really got to talk about that, I guess. So thanks.”

Steve joins him at the window sill, and before he can reach out to take the cigarette from Billy's hand, he's offering it to him.

“You always take it anyway,” he mumbles as Steve takes a drag. “Remember when you were peeping in my window?”

Steve hacks, a laugh escaping him. “How could I forget?” He watches Billy taking the cigarette in, exhaling puffs of smoke through his nose so majestically. The way his lips curl around it is so sensual, and it’s making every inch of Steve tingle. “I almost didn't come, you know. I almost left.”

Billy turns and looks at him, emotions on his sleeve for once. He’s hesitating, floundering.  “Sometimes I wonder if … if I wish you had left.”

But the words don't sting. Because Steve understands. He knows without Billy having to say anything that he wishes that he and Steve could have found friendship in a natural way. Not out of necessity, not out of last resorts, not out of spite because Steve wishes too. With all of his heart. Because maybe everything would be different.

He hates their relationship. He hates that it's so on and off, hot and cold. He despises it. He abhors how he doesn't ever know if Billy is interested in anything about him or if he just doesn't want to deal with Tommy all the time and that's why he's nice to him. Sometimes. Not all the time. Definitely at least half of the time, he's a complete asshole.

Blue eyes outstare brown as Steve breaks away, retreating to his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder and wrapping his arms around him torso self-consciously. “Hey, what are you doing?” Billy flicks his ashes out the window and sticks his cigarette in his mouth, heading over towards the other boy. “Don't go, please, Steve. I didn't mean it like that.”

Steve attempts to wiggle his way out of Billy's grasp, but he softens a bit when he feels the other boy’s hands on his arms. Normally he wouldn't appreciate someone standing directly in front of him with his cigarette inches away from his face, burning his eyes with the smoke but Billy just looks so  _ good.  _ “No...I know, Billy, I do. I just don't know why I came here, I just -”

“Look,” Billy brings his thumb up to Steve's face, running it lightly along his forehead. “I couldn't stop thinking about you either. I  _ can't stop _ thinking about you. Present tense.”

Steve is taken aback slightly by Billy skimming his cheek against his own as he reaches behind him to ash out his cigarette in the tray on his shitty dresser. Steve had always been so smooth, so confident throughout his entire life. Never been nervous around girls, he was a flirt to say the least. 

But Billy.

A whole new world.

Steve's pulse is racing and he hates it. He hates hearing his heartbeat in his ears every time he could feel Billy's warmth, the sick feeling of pleasure he receives at every embrace, every breath, every brush. He  _ hates _ it. Wants it gone. 

“You can't?” Steve mutters pathetically as Billy reaches his arm around him and takes a folder from his backpack.

“Now I know you're not in physics, but let's see if we can help you with your pre-calc, huh? Since you're already here.”

Why was Steve there really? He wanted to make sure Billy was alright, but why was he  _ really _ there? Was he there expecting Billy to just surprise him by telling him he's been in love with him since day one? No, he doesn't think that's what he needs. It’s not what Steve needs. At all.

 

But he feels a little empty and like he didn't fulfill his purpose as he gets in his car that night. Billy is standing in the doorway, propped up against the frame, giving Steve goosebumps as he manages to just look so fucking attractive. Stupid Billy with his stupid shirt, stupid jeans hugging his stupid calves and his stupid hair. Fuck.

“Have a good night, Harrington,” Billy calls out, waving, a goofy smile on his face. 

“See you soon, I guess.” Steve breaks eye contact and avoids looking at him. Steve closes the car door, starting the engine.

And the visit doesn’t end on a sour note. 

But Steve wishes with all of his being, for once, that Billy had belittled him, made him cry, made him feel worthless. Because that would have made trying to quit him just a little less difficult.

He feels his stomach contents turning completely around, twisting and tangling in his belly before he shuts off his car once more. Billy looks surprised when he sees Steve getting back out of his car. He closes the door, suspicion evident and heads down the steps to meet him halfway.

The visit isn't over yet.

“What's up, Harrington?” He arches an eyebrow at him, posture straight and tense.

Steve swallows, heart racing, “I can't do this anymore.” He croaks like a frog, Billy's expression unchanging.

“What are you talking about?” 

“I can't talk to you anymore. I'm done, Billy,”

Billy is still standing tall, but his face has fallen. “What…? Why…”

Steve looks purposely everywhere but at Billy's face, at his ocean eyes, at his pouty lips that are very likely in a sad frown now. “You hurt me,” he whispers, reaching his hand up, using his coat sleeve to dab at the corner of his fucking cry baby eyes.

He can hear Billy adjusting himself. He's probably freezing, it's the middle of winter and he's out here with barely a shirt on. 

“You...you always hurt me. And I can't take it anymore.”

“Steve…” Billy reaches his hand out towards his, but Steve knocks it away instinctively.

“You never  _ stop. _ Never stop. Do you know how many times I've cried because of you? And not just because the physical pain of the beatdowns you've given me?”

The words were spilling out now, clumsy and blunderous, and he can't look at Billy otherwise he'll start to feel guilty and he'll hide away again. He doesn't want to harm Billy, he really doesn't, but he needs to get it out and he fears that he’s about to do just that.

“You hurt everyone who cares for you. And I thought I could help you, thought I  _ was _ helping you. I really did,” he runs his hand along the back of his head, getting caught in his thick hair. “I'm just glad you told me I was nothing to you when you did. Because I might have really fallen deep into the pit, you know?”

“Steve, listen to me,”

“No! You shut the fuck up.” He points a finger at Billy, making the mistake of locking eyes with him. His pale blue eyes are wet and he's shaking, his hands are up in defeat and his lip is quivering and it fucking  _ hurts  _ Steve to see him like this. Steve falters, his voice breaking. “I-I can't... do this...anymore. I hope to God that you get the help you need and you find someone to love and care for you. I hope that someday you can heal, Billy, I really do,” the finger he has out starts to droop, and his arm falls limp.

A tear breaks out, rolling solemnly down Billy's cheek and the sight sends Steve over the edge. He doubles over, letting out a disgusting sob.

“Why is this so fucking hard!?” He screams, yells to the concrete that his feet are planted on, hands on his head in disgust.

“Did you not fucking listen to me earlier, Harrington?” Billy says darkly, his voice insecure. “I said...well, I purposely didn't say you were nothing to me... I-”

Steve whips himself back up, fingers intertwined in his own hair and he can’t help but start to get pissed. There’s always a fucking excuse, a false explanation as to why Billy’s a dick, why he hurts everyone. “That's just it!! Instead of just saying the fucking words 'you're my friend, Steve!’ you said that I'm dumb! You are  _ incapable _ of being fucking nice!”

Billy's expression hardens, his walls going right back up where they always have been. “Oh, fuck off, Harrington, you're being a fucking psycho,” he puts a hand on his hip nonchalantly and turns his attention towards the horizon, the sun starting to set, casting shadows from the trees.

“I'm being a psycho? I'm just trying to prevent myself from being hurt! AGAIN!!”

“Why do you need me to say it!? You'd have to be a fucking ignorant peon to not know that you're important to me.”

Steve drops his hands, shaking his head solemnly. “Because maybe I'm tired of being insulted, Billy. You're always insulting me. And it's not even just a 'you’re dumb’, it's a 'you're nothing to me’. Those words fucking rip my god damn heart open every time that -”

“It's your fault for feeling that way, not mine. It's your fault that no matter how many times I try to push you away, you still have a crush on me. I  _ tried _ to get you to fuck off but you never did.”

Steve's jaw drops a little bit, and he's glad Billy isn't looking at him because he knows his face is twisted into something undesirable. “Well I'm fucking off now, are you satisfied?” He turns to go but Billy grabs his shoulder.

“No, Steve... wait, don't go, please,” Billy's words are lost on him as he jerks around, whacking Billy's grip on him once again. They're mere inches apart, and Steve is fighting every instinct he has in his body to apologise and give Billy a hug, but his rage overwhelms him.

“Now  _ you're _ nothing to  _ me _ . Don't try to talk to me again.” he backs away to the driver's side of the BMW.

Billy is looking at his feet, arms wrapped around himself. He's shivering, and when he finally lifts his head to meet Steve's glare, he's broken. Finally.  _ Finally. _ His lip is trembling and his eyes and nose are red and his hair is messy from the wind and Steve is so infuriated about everything that he doesn't even feel a drop of pity.

As he opens the door, he hollers back, “Do you feel like shit, Billy? Huh?” 

The blond boy grabs his collar and brings it up to wipe his eyes, nodding slowly and for once, he doesn't look good, doesn't look majestic. He just looks hurt. His stomach is exposed to the cold air as he's pulling his shirt up to hide his tears. His body lurches a little bit as he whimpers.

“You made me feel like this _ EVERY day. _ Fuck you, Billy!”

And maybe it's a little bit of anger at himself for being so ruthless, the fact that he's so hopelessly gone for this boy that he's purposely shattering, or perhaps it's all of the pent-up frustration from all of the times that said boy has hurt him, but Steve can't even let it go yet - he has to take one more swing. Nail the coffin shut.

“You deserve all of this.”

 

And Billy weeps. He weeps there on the sidewalk, freezing, a sob escaping him as Steve slams the car door for the last time. He chokes on his cries, in straight up disbelief as to how fucking terrible he feels because of something some kid he goes to school with said to him. He feels like a fucking child who's crying now that they haven't gotten their way.

He's used to being hurt, being beaten. But the fists of his father colliding with his body doesn't pack nearly as much - for lack of a better term -  punch, as Steve Harrington's words have.

Billy drops down to the cold concrete, ignoring the feeling of the snow wetting his jeans. He brings his hands up, cupping them around his mouth and lets out a scream, as loud as he can muster into the void as Steve’s BMW heads down the street.

Once the feeling in his toes starts to fade away, Billy stands clumsily. Hesitating at his front door a little, digits numb, he tries to regain his composure before heading inside.  Billy feels his heart drop when he shuts the door behind him upon entering, immediately locking eyes with his dad. 

“How was that, son?” He says, unusually calm. 

“It was okay. The kid's a moron, for sure.”

“He was the one who brought you home when you were drunk that night, right?”

Billy hesitates, trying to hide a sniffle. “Yeah, he was.”

Neil nods, placing a hand on Susan's thigh and turns his attention back to the television. “Seems like a nice young man, not a moron.”

Billy bites his lip and heads to the kitchen, taking out the bread and a block of cheese. He pauses with the dairy in his hand, debating on whether or not he should offer a grilled cheese to anyone else. Upon entering the living room, Neil hits his hands down hard on his lap, expression full of complete annoyance upon seeing his son standing there holding some sharp cheddar. “What do you want? We're busy. Get out.”

Billy's mouth opens before he has the words ready. “Did you eat supper?”

Susan smiles. “Are you making grilled cheese sandwiches, Billy? That's sweet of you. We’ll have one each, please.”

Billy nods, and he's thankful for Susan in that moment - she clearly was responding for herself and Neil both to avoid further conflict.

His next stop is Max’s room. He waits by the door, reluctant to deal with her at all. He can hear her talking, and he debates on aborting his mission all together just in case she was with Lucas or another one of her dweeby friends. 

His sister opens the door before he has the chance to escape, giving him a weird look. He immediately notes her holding onto the Walkman he'd bought for her. She was singing. “Did you need something?”

Still holding the cheese in his hand like a complete tart, he grimaces. “I'm making some food,”

“Cheese sandwiches?” Max raises an eyebrow.

“You know it.” Billy smirks, putting his free hand on his hip. 

Max nods smugly. “The only thing you know how to cook. Yeah, I'd love one.”

“I'm good at it!” Billy calls as Max heads down the hallway to the bathroom.

“No argument here!” 

Silence. Billy feels a little uncomfortable, suddenly self conscious about what he was wearing, how his hair looked, his ability to make the sandwiches. He scratches his head and looks down at the cheese in his hand and rolls his eyes. He knows that everyone can clearly tell he’d been crying, because it wasn’t just crying, it was a straight up breakdown and he can just picture how red his eyes are and he’s glad no one really said anything because he doesn’t have an explanation.

“Idiot,” he grumbles, heading back to the kitchen. 

He can hear Max exit the bathroom and head to the living room. It's not that he wishes any sort of disdain upon Max, but he half-wants Neil to yell at her to get out like he'd done to him.

But he doesn't. 

He invites her to join them on the couch, and Billy can just picture Susan wrapping her arms around Max and pulling her into a tight hug. A scowl forms on his face as he places the ingredients on the griddle.

He flips the sandwiches on to a big serving tray, carrying his family’s plates in his free hand out to the living room. “Here you go, sire,” Billy spits as he hands Neil first a paper plate and then offers him the tray of sandwiches. 

“What did you just say?”

“I said here's your sandwich. Enjoy.” 

Neil runs a finger along his upper lip, and Billy is disgusted at the thought of having a full  mustache. He wonders what it’s like to have food get stuck in your facial hair. “See, I don't think that's what you said, son.”

“Neil, please,” Max puts her hand on Neil's forearm but it's too late, he's already backhanding Billy across the face. 

“What did you say to me?”

Billy reels a little bit, but he's not surprised whatsoever. “I said,” he closes his eyes and takes a big breath, “Fuck you, da-”

Before he can finish, Neil is pushing him down. He drops the tray of sandwiches in an attempt to brace his fall. And in an instant Max is screaming and Susan is hollering and Billy gets a boot to the gut.

“Get out of my face,” his father barks.

Susan is grabbing the food from the floor and picking up the mess hurriedly. When he stands, Billy makes eye contact with each of them before heading down the lonely hallway to his room. His journey feels like it’s a solid five miles. Whatever, he’s numb to everything and couldn't feel it - a kick to his stomach hurt way less than the berating he took from Steve earlier anyhow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is like 1500 words more than usual but I wanted to cut it off at a specific point. 
> 
> Ooookay friends, so here comes me giving you a little insight to this because I've actually been receiving anon hate on tumblr lmaooo.  
> Don't worry - in my doc this is only page 73 out of (currently) 150. It's not ending right now!!   
> The whole point to this story is to chronicle the extremely awkward rollercoaster ride that would probably be Billy and Steve's relationship. We can't forget as a fandom that while these two work extremely well as a couple (I hella think so lmao), there's definitely some hostility there from both ends. I'm sure I'll get some more hate for this chapter but o well!  
> I've had this part written for like two months now, at least. When I write, I try to get a baseline down and then I go back and edit it later (so that's probably, mostly why if anything is weird and inconsistent - I rework things and put things in different orders. It's terrible I know but bear with me ahahaha). Anyway, I wanted Steve to blow the fuck up at least once. Because to be honest, as cute as they can be together, would YOU not be furious having your feelings toyed with ALL THE TIME? I definitely would. (Not that it excuses Steve being a dick, or Billy either for that matter) I wanted to showcase the fact that BOTH of the boys would DEFINITELY have a hard as fuck time coming to terms with their sexualities, and probably get in hella arguments over it because the denial and attempts to have life go back to 'normal' could easily tear their "friendship" apart, you feel me?   
> Tl;dr I've got a lot more story for you guys if you'll have it, so please don't hate Steve or Billy for having a difficult time. Lmao, and pls don't send me anon hate telling me to stop writing 'sad' shit, SHIT'S SAD SOMETIMES. How am I supposed to write an 80k+ fic of nothing but happiness? lololol.  
> Thank you ALL for your time and views, I still cannot believe this fic has over 2000 hits! It's blowing my mind! I appreciate you all so much and you're all helping me so much to have enough confidence to post my work (even if it's some of the most basic writing I've ever done lmao). Thank you thank you!!! <3


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *tw for hate speech

After about two hours of tossing and turning, Billy finally sits up and turns on his lamp. He’s clumsily reaching for the book on his dresser when he hears a knock at his door. He has absolutely no idea what time it is and really doesn't want to know - He panics a little, quickly shutting the light back off and rolling over into bed before a voice sounds out.

“Billy,”

It's Max.

The boy shoots back up, sending daggers at the redhead as she enters the room. “What do you want?” 

“I heard you moving around. I just wanted to come say hi,” 

Billy eyes her suspiciously. “Okay Max, you got me. It's late as fuck, so do you want me to bring you to your boy toy’s house or what?”

She makes a face in apparent repulsion. “What? Ew, no!” She scrambles over to Billy's bed, taking a seat at the end of it. “Move your feet a little.” She tries to budge his thick legs to no avail.

He snickers a little at her feeble attempt but swings them around so that she can sit comfortably. He doesn't say anything, just picks at his nails. He can feel her eyes boring into his skull, but he ignores it in favour of the silence sitting heavily in the room.

“I uh, I heard a little of your fight with Steve,” she whispers.

Billy stops dead, his eyes shifting slowly from his fingernails over to his sister. How much did she hear? “Max, there's a lot that-”

“That I don't understand, yeah yeah, I know. I had my window open, by the way. So don't worry, Neil didn't hear it.” She half-smiles and Billy is thankful for her at least trying to bring some good out of the awkward subject, but fails to fight the release of a heavy sigh.

“Thank God, the last thing I need is to deal with... _ that _ .”

Max nods, trying to avoid the end of the conversation. “So...did you want to talk about it?”

Billy stares at her blankly for a little bit. “Not at all.”

“Oh, okay.”

The two sit together in a surprisingly comfortable peace for a few moments before Billy shatters the ice. “Did you like the Walkman?” 

“ _ Love _ the Walkman.” She grins. “Dustin keeps asking to borrow it, but I won't let him. It's mine!”

Billy wishes that Max was not in his life. He wishes that his father had never met Susan and that both of them had never gotten trapped in Neil’s controlling war path. He knows that somewhere deep down, Susan is in love with dear ol’ Dad but he doesn't understand how she keeps her daughter here, with her authoritarian, abusive, piece of trash  husband and his equally shitty son.

He _ yearns _ to be able to hug his own mother one more time, to have her be able to take him away from this place. He wants nothing more than to be able to go home to California where he belongs, to feel the warmth of the sunshine on his skin, to listen to the water, to skateboard and to surf and to laugh with his friends again. 

Maybe he can find a way to go back on spring release. Maybe Steve would -

Oh.

Right.

Billy must have been wearing his heart on his sleeve because he suddenly feels Max's arms around him, embracing him in a hug that he most definitely doesn't deserve. “I'm sorry your friend is mad at you.”

_ It's a little more than mad, Max. _

“I'm sorry too,” Billy whispers so quietly that he can hardly hear himself.

“Steve is a complicated guy, I think. He seems like he's going through some stuff if that helps at all.” She lets go of Billy's waist and shrugs her shoulders.

_ Going through some stuff. _

_ Some stuff that is most certainly all Billy's fault. _

“Yeah, but that's okay. We all go through rough patches.” He mumbles, absentmindedly staring off into the distance for longer than he would like.

She nods in response again, playing with her hair a little bit. Billy watches her, braiding it over and over again. He thinks about Eleven, and how she's the only person left in Hawkins who thinks anything nice of Billy and how he’ll probably just end up hurting her too.

After another few minutes of silence, Billy convinces Max to go back to bed. “I'll see you in the morning, okay?”

“Okay. I hope you sleep good, Billy.”

He pats her head awkwardly rather than hugging her, but she looks like she appreciates the gesture nonetheless when she smiles before departing for her room. 

 

Billy takes the cowardly route and chooses not to go to school for the rest of the week. He isn't supposed to be driving until he's cleared by the doctor anyway, and he's been avoiding that appointment as well because doctors are all quacks and don't know shit, obviously.

When Saturday arrives, Billy's pouring himself a glass of milk when the front door bursts open and a gaggle of kids fly in simultaneously. He's still not fully awake, nearly dropping the container of Nestle Quik he's holding. 

“Jesus Christ, Max, warn a guy,” he grumbles, digging his heels firmly against the floor as he sees Eleven galloping towards him at a high speed. He opens his arms and collects her in for a squeeze.

“Billy!” She squeals, grabbing the powder from his hands. “What's this?”

He grins at her naivety. “It makes my milk taste like chocolate,” he says, scooping some into his cup and stirring it. “See? It's really good.” He hands it to her and she takes a big swig.

“Wow...so good,” Billy feels a little sad that she's never had chocolate milk before, but there's a first time for everything and he's glad he gets to experience it. 

Looking around, he sees that everyone has abandoned ship. They probably were in Max's room with her. Billy snorts a bit, noticing that Max has taken advantage of the fact that Neil and Susan aren't home well - not that Neil and Susan ever care that she has friends over. If Billy had invited anyone over, though, it'd be a different story.

“I have a question,” Eleven looks at him sheepishly, and he removes himself from his isolationist  thoughts to focus on her.

“Shoot,” 

“Will you…” she takes a book out from behind her back, “...help me read this?”

To say that Billy was taken aback would be putting it mildly. Did the girl not even know how to read? He reaches for the book - a shitty rundown copy of  _ A Midsummer Night's Dream. _ “Oh,” he says stupidly, moderately flustered that she’d gone out and commandeered it based on his recommendation. It was nice to have someone care about what he was saying, it really was.

“Please Billy?” El is smiling so radiantly at him, grinning at him so broadly that there was absolutely no way he could say no even if he wanted to.

“Hell yeah!” he reaches out enthusiastically and gives her a one-armed hug. “I'm always down for some Shakespeare.”

He brings her out into the living room after making himself another glass of chocolate milk because she had unapologetically stolen his. They sit on the couch together, and he starts reading it with her, each of them taking different roles in the play. He stops often to explain some weird Shakespearean lingo and to tell her some random facts that he's got stored in the back of his brain. 

“My sophomore year, I was flunking English and our final exam was on this play,” he says, holding the book up against his chest for a moment in adoration. “And I got one hundred percent on the exam and that brought my grade up to passing.”

“Like a magician.”

“Like a damn magician.” Billy repeats, beaming.

Eleven snorts. “Not magic. Just smart.” 

Billy flushes a little, not really used to anyone genuine giving him a compliment. 

Except Steve. Steve is genuine.

“Thanks, girl. You're the best.” He ruffles her hair a little and she leans up against his shoulder. 

 

Mike keeps poking his head around the corner to make sure Billy hasn't violently murdered his girlfriend for the two hours they spend reading the play. They're still not quite finished when Neil and Susan arrive home. Billy's embarrassed as hell because he'd let El put his hair into some more sloppy braids - Just what he needed, his dad to see his “fag” son with braids in his hair.

“What a look,” Susan laughs as she sets her purse down on the table. Neil doesn't comment when he passes them and heads to the kitchen- just the way Billy likes it. “Maxine!” her mother calls and the lot of her friends come scampering out like a pack of puppies. “Are you all staying for dinner?” 

Will strays away from the group and approaches first Billy and Eleven, giggling a little at Billy's hair. “You look almost friendly.” He smiles, pointing at the book. “Shakespeare huh? You're gonna be the most well read one of us yet, El.”

“Billy's teaching me lango.”

“Lingo.” Billy corrects, eyeing Will up to see if he was serious. Billy doesn't know a whole lot about him, except for the fact that people call him Zombie Boy and he’s Jonathan’s younger brother.

“Yes,” Eleven nods confidently. “Lingo.”

“Nice. It can be kinda hard I think. I think next year we're going to read Romeo and Juliet.” Will says, and Billy appreciates the fact that he's trying to make conversation because the rest of the kids are still pretty mute towards him. Will sits down and they all take turns reading the different roles.

Susan makes pork chops and mashed potatoes for dinner, and all nine of them eat together, exchanging stories about everything. And it feels like a big family; Billy sits silently at the end of the table just listening to everyone share their experiences and tales. He eventually finishes his supper and tosses his plate in the sink, taking his leave to no protests whatsoever.

He heads to his room and grabs a notebook from his backpack. Twirling the pencil in between his fingers, the blond starts to doodle. His doodles turn into him jotting notes down all around his sketch subject, which turns into him furiously writing down his feelings and thoughts until he fills up at least thirty separate pages. 

Suffering from writer's cramp and shaking his wrist out, Billy slams his notebook down on his bed and falls back helplessly. He considers burning the entire notebook, firstly because he has zero artistic talent and it would just be embarrassing if anyone saw his sketches and second because he vented a little too much in there and he would quite literally die of cardiac arrest if anyone read his innermost thoughts. 

He slides the notebook in between his mattress and box spring and decides he'll at least finish the notebook before he adds it to the bonfire he’ll no doubt be having alone come spring.

 

On Monday, Billy catches a ride with Tommy to school. They've only just arrived and he's already so sick and tired of the guy that he's ready to purposely reopen the wound on his head so he can go home.

Thankfully, Billy only has lunch and physical education with him, and he's not particularly excited for either period. Carol's invited a new girl who just started in Hawkins at the start of the week to sit with them at lunch and she's done nothing but gawk at Billy the entire time. 

He keeps accidentally locking eyes with her, awkwardly feeling her staring at him. She doesn't look away when he spots her at all and it kind of freaks him out.

About halfway through lunch, she finally speaks. “I've never seen someone so handsome in my life.”

Tommy stops chewing, Carol nearly chokes on her milk, and Billy raises his eyebrows. “Is that so?” He says smugly.

“Yeah, wow. You're like, a definite 15 out of ten.” she reaches her hand out to him and he ignores her.

“I know,” Billy says blankly as he takes a bite of an apple.

Carol hides a laugh. “I notice that neither of you have a date to the winter formal,” 

Billy starts to protest, but he flounders. “Yeah, you're right.” 

If he were a good person, he would turn the proposal down immediately because he's definitely not interested and he's still reeling from the whole Steve fiasco and on top of that, he's had a migraine for two weeks straight and it's not showing any signs of getting better. But he's definitely not gotten laid in quite some time, he definitely should probably re-beef up his image as a badass, and he's most  _ definitely _ not a good person.

“Wanna go with me, babe?” He flashes all of his perfect teeth at her fakely, knowing he'd melt her immediately.

She nods rapidly and wipes sweat from her brow, and Billy realises he doesn't even know her name.

“I'm Billy.”

“I know.” 

He looks at her expectantly, but she isn't taking the hint. Realistically, she probably had told him her name previously but he'd ignored it, or he just didn't give a shit. And he really still doesn't, but he should probably know it so he can pretend like he cares when he's railing her.

 

Phy-ed is clearly not going to be fun because Billy gets put on the same team as Steve for volleyball. He does exactly what Steve had told him to and doesn't try to talk to him whatsoever, but it's making their other teammates angry. And rightfully so.

The lack of communication is causing issues. And it's not just a lack of communication, it's the complete disregard of the other's existence - including purposely trying to avoid even looking in each other's directions and accidentally smacking into one another and staying silent when spoken to.

They take a loss for every single game, Billy doesn't give a shit about the opinion of his classmates anyhow. After an excruciatingly long hour, class is dismissed and everyone hits the showers. Billy scowls, staring at Steve washing his hair in the very spot where he'd come on to Billy. His frown only deepens when he spots Tommy and another boy approaching Steve.

Trying to catch some bits of their conversation, Billy sits down on a bench by a locker that definitely isn't his. He can pick up the usual banter between them, Tommy being an annoying fucker and Steve telling him to screw off. Typical.

But then he hears it.

“Look at Steve. So pretty. Look at his pretty hair and his pretty eyes.” 

Billy peeks around the corner to see the boy who isn't Tommy push Steve backwards a little bit.

“Are you eyeing me up, Stevie? Huh?”

“Jesus Christ, Donald, I'm not. Leave me alone,” Steve barks.

Tommy grins widely and steps toward Steve. “I think he's a liar. The little kids he hangs out with don't satisfy. He craves a real man.”

“Faggot,” Donald pokes Steve hard in between the shoulder blades as he turns away from them. “I saw you lustin’ after Billy. All period you were staring at him,”

_ What? _

“A queer and a pedophile,” Tommy gets on one side of Steve, the taller boy on his other. “Are you lookin’ at Billy, or his kid sister, huh?”

“Max,”

“Yeah, Max.”

Billy feels his pulse racing, and it's taking everything he's got to hold himself back. He turns away, starting to walk back to his own locker, trying to tune the ruckus out. The last thing he needs is to cause another fucking scene, he’s always causing a scene and he’s getting pissed and fuck they’re harassing Steve and they better fucking stop it because Billy is starting to see red fuck fuck.

“Don't touch me, what the-” Steve's voice rings throughout the room and Billy comes flying around the corner, hand grabbing Tommy by the back of the neck and slamming his head full-force into the tile of the shower wall. Tommy slides down to the floor and Billy ambushes Donald next, fist colliding with the other boy's temple.  Steve stands there, stunned and soaking. His jaw hangs open, but he doesn't say anything. 

Billy turns once again, pointing a finger accusingly at Tommy. “Keep my sister's name out of your dirty fucking mouth, dickhead.” his glare wanders up Steve, whose brown eyes are as wide as they could possibly be.

And Billy leaves him standing there, naked and exposed in the shower with his assailants spread out around him as he storms out of the locker room.

 

_ They were fuckin’ nagging him. Harrington, I mean. They were calling him names, nasty ones. And I couldn't handle it. I listened to them call him faggot, queer, pedophile. And maybe Harrington is queer. Shit, I know he is. But they shouldn't be saying those things to him. They don't know about him, about us. They're just teasing him - accusing him of staring at me. _

_ Hell, maybe he was. Shit. Maybe he feels bad about what he said to me. I feel bad about what he said to me, that's for sure. But he wasn't wrong - I am a dick. I'm a fuckin’ jerk and the pretty boy doesn't deserve to be treated how I was treating him. _

_ But how dare they call him a pedophile for being nice to some fuckin’ kids? They were throwing around Maxine's name, and I wailed on the assholes. I tried so hard to walk away peacefully but fuck, I heard Steve yell something about them touching him and I...fuck, I smashed that asshole Tommy's face into the wall and I punched his ugly bitch friend.  _

 

_ I blamed it on Max. _

_ I told Tommy to keep my sister's name out of his mouth but I lied. I did it for Steve because he's Steve and I can't let him get hurt because… _

 

_ I...don't know how to answer that, actually. Because I just can't. But god, I miss him so much. Harrington, again. I really just want to be able to go to his house and sit and watch the television or just go out to the drive in or something, anything really. I just want to hear him laugh and shit. _

_ What's wrong with me? What is actually fucking wrong with me? Because I can't shake him. I can't...I can't fucking stop thinking about him. He's in all of my thoughts. I've never had such a genuine person in my corner and I think it's my fault that he doesn't want anything to do with me. I know it's my fault, I mean. _

_ But I just can't give him what he wants from me. I can't just kiss and love on him all the time. It's fucking wrong and I can't do it. It's not me, it's not who I am, I just want a fucking friend! Is that so much to ask? I… _

_ I'm fucking lying again. _

_ It's pretty sad when you lie in your own writing, huh? Shit. _

  
  


Billy has just about fucking had it with his winter formal date Tracy. She's told everyone in the school that Billy is her boyfriend and someone gave her his phone number and she won't leave him alone. It's probably his fault,  _ definitely _ his fault, since he's been letting her blow him after school every other day or so and she'd asked him to have sex with her one night at a party, which he did because he’s  dumb. She's clearly taking it more seriously than he is, and he should probably cut it off but he can't be bothered. He never told her he'd be her boyfriend anyways.

Carol's rented probably the only limo in Hawkins and Billy is not enthused about their group. He'd reluctantly agreed to go as part of a group for Tracy's sake, after all, he knew how shitty it was to move to godawful Hawkins and have no friends. 

Tracy's dress was a disgusting and prudish gown that did absolutely nothing for her figure. Not like he wanted her to wear anything that she wasn't comfortable in, but she was most certainly easy on the eyes and he wouldn't have minded if it showed a bit more. Red is his favourite color so he doesn't mind matching her, but he cringes when she asks him to take couples photos together outside of the restaurant. He hates the idea of knowing that her family is going to have pictures of them together forever if they so choose when he knows he's using the bird and will for sure be dumping her in a week maximum. If he can stand her for that long.

Billy isn't one for relationships - never has been. He's had the occasional girlfriend but he's never really had a long-standing relationship and he really has no desire to. But he's read enough novels in his time to know that he'll be able to tell when someone is worth sticking it out for.

Being an immature tool, Billy seeks to ruin every single photo Tracy wants to take with him by doing something crude in all of them. He doesn't want her to be able to go home and tell her family and get them developed to display publicly in their home. He has six chins in one picture, gives his middle finger in the next, and reaches out to mimic grabbing the girl's chest in another.

“Billy, can't you just smile for once?” She pleads, giving him her best pouty lip.

He rolls his eyes. “I have to save my smiles for the best occasions.”

“Isn't this one of those occasions!?” She shrieks. “You're gonna be graduating this spring and you won't have any good pictures from your senior winter formal!”

He shrugs, taking the camera from Carol and taking a picture of Tracy, standing taunt with her hands on her hips. “Here's a good one.”

“You weren’t even in it!!!”

 

Dinner is awkward because Tommy and Carol and Tracy and their other friends are all talking about double-dating and Billy isn't having any of it. He bites his tongue on many an instance, trying hard to not shoot Tracy's hopes and dreams down before the dance. Her makeup does look pretty, after all.

Knowing he's being a shitty person after being called out for being just that by Steve, he tries hard to ignore his moral compass telling him to just leave. It was his senior year winter formal after all. So, he's going to try to make the most of this bound-to-be-disastrous night by destroying everyone else's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Billy at a formal event? Clearly it's not going to go so well.


	14. Chapter 14

Someone had spiked the punch, _ thank god _ , and it's enough to get Billy to feel a smidgen better about his evening. He even dances with his group a little, talks a bit of shit and is only an asshole to Tommy once. Despite having literally shoved Tommy's face into the locker room wall, he hasn't brought anything up and seems to think no different of Billy for it - and it actually kind of pisses Billy off. He'd straight up made Tommy think that he was mad about them talking filth about his sister and talking about someone's sibling is pretty low so it was kind of irking Billy that Tommy didn't even apologise for what he had said. 

He probably just knows it was a dick move. Not that it's an excuse.

The dance is definitely in full swing. Tiring quickly of the people surrounding him, Billy heads to the punch bowl to refuel. He runs into Nancy Wheeler, literally, and nearly spills punch on her dress. She gives him the finger in response.

“Ugh, jerk!” she calls, shooting an evil stare his way.

“Where's pretty boy?”

“Who?”

“Steve,” Billy, having a solid buzz at this point, pats her oddly on the shoulder.

“Why do you care?” She rolls her eyes and retreats back to her loser boyfriend, the one who she'd dumped Steve to be with. 

_ What a loss for her,  _ Billy decides as he stares the two down. Steve was one of the most caring and supportive people he'd ever met in his entire life and to just toss that away? Ridiculous.

Although - Steve hadn't even given Billy a chance. Well, technically he had. Actually, he'd given him a lot of chances. But he'd taken the one that really mattered away when he blew up at Billy. Because Billy was  _ maybe _ ready to admit he'd been wrong. Maybe. 

The blond boy scoffs as his date comes up and collects him. “Are you friends with Nancy? I heard she's a real bitch,” Tracy mumbles, hand placed strategically across Billy's chest as if she were trying to prove that he was taken. Which he wasn’t.

Nancy and Jonathan are staring at them from afar, side-eyeing both he and Tracy and clearly talking about them in hushed tones. Billy’s eyes drift a little bit, some floppy brown hair catching his glance. Steve is carrying a bunch of snacks in his arms, and Billy’s heart sinks immediately when he sees the other boy. Steve doesn’t even look up at them, doesn’t acknowledge Billy’s existence at all but more importantly, doesn’t acknowledge Tracy’s.

Billy is a stranger to jealousy, and he’s not even sure what’s making him feel the way he is because Steve is dateless - perhaps he’s just envious of Jonathan and Nancy for being worth Harrington’s time. He bites his lip with a hollow look in his eyes and rolls his head around to stare at the girl on his arm.

“Wanna fuck or somethin’?” he asks, trying to take his mind off of the burning rage that's gnawing away in his chest.

She looks a little taken aback. “What? Here?”

Billy’s knocks back a little more punch, definitely needing it if they were going to do this.  “I’unno. Maybe just somewhere. I’m just really…” He stumbles when reaching out for her hand. “I’m just really feelin’ right now. Feelin’ the feels,” 

Tracy shrugs a little, looking smug. “Sure,” She rubs Billy’s arm up and down and he wants to smack her hand away but he doesn’t because all he cares about at the moment is thinking about anything but the pit in his stomach. Or Steve. Anything but Steve.

Billy stalls for maybe ten minutes or so while  he tries to plot a way to get Steve to see him with Tracy because he’s drunk and Billy is maniacal when he’s drunk. And a little extra stupid. He paces back and forth anxiously while she watches him. She’s clearly confused about his reluctance after Billy was the one who’d asked in the first place. Billy knows that Steve is purposely trying to ignore him, but he wants Steve to be envious and regret his decision to cut their friendship and he wants Steve to see how well he cleans up; He craves attention from Steve despite the fact that he's trying to pretend he doesn't.

A little too liquored up to be thinking rationally, Billy approaches Tommy and pulls him aside from his friends. “Have you tried the punch?” Tommy asks, taking a giant swig.

“F-fuck yeah,” Billy slurs.

Tommy  nods and gives him a high-five. “Obviously you have! Nice!”

“Listen,” Billy grabs his shoulder and nods in Steve’s direction. “I wanna play a prank on Harrington.”

“Listening.” Tommy replies, leaning his  head in to mastermind their plan.

“I want him to…” Billy stretches his back a little, searching for the words. “I want you get him to go into the locker room.”

“What are you gonna do?” Tommy looks way too invested in this, and if Billy was in his right state of mind he’d definitely have canceled the plot already but luckily for absolutely nobody, he's not.

The blond motions towards his date, standing across the decorated gym by Carol, probably bragging about what Billy’d asked earlier. “I uh...want him to walk in on me n’ Tammy,”

“Tracy?”

“Yeah, whatever…”

Tommy looks a bit befuddled. “What? Why?”

“He’s got a crush on her,”

The freckled boy’s face morphs into a devious expression. “Aaaah, okay, yeah,” He rubs his chin like a television villain. “He’ll probably go home and cry himself to sleep seeing you bending the bitch over!” He cackles loudly, a little too loudly, and Billy’s embarrassed. He'd have to have had eight more glasses of punch to not feel the sting of humiliation Tommy brings everywhere he goes.

“So...you gotta give me five minutes and then make sure Steve goes to the locker room. Mmkay?” Billy puts  his hand around the back of Tommy’s neck, forcing him to nod. 

“How the hell am I gonna get him to go in there? He ain’t gonna listen to me,”

Point.

“You’ll figure it out, I know it…” Billy smiles wickedly and heads over, taking Tracy by the hand, scoping out the room for supervisors before heading into the men's locker room with her.

He pulls the girl into the showers with him behind the half-wall separating the lockers from their location. She makes a weird noise, trying to get him to help her undo her dress, but he suddenly can’t feel his fingers. His stomach is flipping inside of him, and he can’t force himself to touch her. He realises he’s done something incredibly stupid, asking her in here and he’s trapped now. He doesn't want to tell her that she disgusts him, that he would much prefer to be fucking another dude and that he's definitely gay and using her to make someone else angry.

“Uh...Tracy...I uh...gotta tell you somethin’,”

“Will you get my dress off first? I can’t reach the buttons by my neck...help me, honey,”

Billy sighs, running his hand across his forehead. “I...I’m not interested in you, Tracy. M’sorry. I gotta cut this off,” he hangs a little too long on the word off.

She spins around, giving him a puzzled look. “What…? But you’re the one who…”

“I know...sorry. I just can’t.”

“What if instead, I just…” She reaches for his pants, quickly trying to tug in the zipper.

Billy swats her hand away more forcefully that he’d intended. She jumps a little, pouting her lips out. “No, girl, I can’t... don’t.” 

“Do you...not like me?”

“You’re uh...just not my type I guess, I’m s-sorry,” He stutters, refuses to look at her until he feels her grabbing at his crotch again. “What the fuck are you doing? Jesus,”

“Let me just...one more time…” She’s pulled his zipper down now, and he’s backing away when the lights turn on.

“Uhhh…”

Right. Of course. The master plan. Right. Riiiiiight.

Steve is definitely there, staring wide-eyed at Billy and the girl who’s exposed his dick to the elements, because obviously Billy isn’t an underwear kind of guy. “H-hey, Harrington, what’s goin’ on?” Billy feels eternally embarrassed, and his foolproof plan has been flushed completely down the toilet along with any confidence he'd had.

Fucking Tracy doesn’t pay any attention to Steve as she tugs on Billy, pulling him completely out of his pants as he stares dumbfounded at Steve. And neither of them look away. Steve is still staring, and Billy is only removed from his trance by the wet feeling of the girl’s lips around him.

“Will you…” He grabs her head and tries to yank her off of him. “...kindly get the fuck off of me? Jesus Christ…”

Steve breaks away too then, putting a hand over his eyes and taking a deep breath, as if he’d just been snapped to reality. 

“Why though? What do I have to do, Billy? Take me, please,” Tracy begs, grabbing at his hands.

“Tracy...shit...will you just fuck off? I c-can’t do this. Leave me alone...I don’t want you…” Billy's head rolls backwards and he rubs his eyes. “Get out…”

She huffs out a breath and looks over at Steve. “Why are you here?”

Steve starts to reply, but she starts to tear up and she runs past him and out of the room before he can. His glare at Billy is as cold as ice. “I’m here because Tommy told me to meet you here.” He answers to Billy since his intended audience was fleeing.

Figures that the way that Tommy would get Steve where they’d wanted him was to straight up tell him that Billy wanted to meet up. He’s lucky that they actually don’t hate one another as much as they make it out to be otherwise Steve would have been a fool to come in. Or, at least Billy doesn't hate Steve. Hard to tell how Harrington feels after he figuratively tore him a new asshole at his house that one day.

Billy snorts. “Nice,” He rubs his hands over his face, looking at the brunette with an exhausted expression.

“So uh, are you gonna…” Steve points at Billy’s pants blindly, eyes directed to the complete opposite side of the room. 

Billy looks down, “Oh...y-yeah, I guess I could,” He slurs, fixing himself up before approaching Steve. The other boy clearly sees that Billy’s closed the gap between them, but he still won’t look at him.

“Why did you ask him to get me to meet you?” Steve says monotonously.

Billy runs his hands along his sides, anxious and probably going to make an idiot out of himself. “I don't know. I must miss you or somethin’,” he sighs.

“There's better ways to get my attention than to try to have me walk in on some girl giving you head, Billy.”

Billy feigns an extremely offended look. “I would never do such a thing,”

Steve rolls his eyes and smirks. “Yeah right. Pretty convenient, then, huh?”

“Well, you told me to not try to talk to you...and I gotta do something because I…” Billy stops speaking, words lost at the tip of his tongue. Steve stares at him expectantly. 

“I told you to not try to talk to me because-”

“Shut up, pretty boy,” Billy, boozy, smacks himself in the forehead. “You were a fuckin’ jerk to me the other day.”

Steve's jaw hangs a little in shock at Billy's definite hypocrisy. “As if you've never been a complete jackass to me!”

“At least I don't disown my friends,”

“At least  _ I _ don't lie to myself and try to alienate my friends _ before they disown me _ .” Steve snarls a little, now eyeing Billy up completely. “You have had way too many chances, Billy. I don't have the fucking time to deal with your petty...” he hesitates, “...bullshit, okay?”

Steve turns around and attempts to walk away, but Billy lurches forward and grabs his hand. He spins Steve around, quickly pulling him into an embrace. “For the love of Metallica, Harrington,” he rests his chin along Steve's shoulder, “don't you fucking walk away again. I need yoooou.” He lingers pathetically, inhaling Steve's cologne.

Steve's body is a rock wall, completely stiff and unmoving. He doesn't falter even when Billy takes some pieces of brunette hair between his fingers, when he runs the tip of his nose along his jaw. “Billy, you have to stop.”

Billy's breath is hot against Steve's neck. “Who's lying to themselves right now, Harrington? You don't want me to stop.”

Steve swallows hard, adam's apple bobbing a little and starting to break a sweat in his formal attire but he still doesn't speak.

“Tell me, huh? How's your life been goin’ since you left me in the cold?” Billy's hand runs along Steve's thigh, crawling up underneath his suit coat. Steve's arm finally settles around Billy's strong shoulders, and he gasps softly at the other's touch. His body heaves a little and Billy lets out a low groan. “You miss me too, pretty boy.”

Steve sniffles, and Billy pulls away from him, reaching his hands up to cup his cheeks. “I miss you too,” Steve whispers almost silently, but the words echo loudly throughout the empty locker room. Billy flashes his teeth in a grin and reaches his pinky up. “What's that for?” Steve asks, an eyebrow arched and his eyes a little damp.

“It's a promise.”

“A promise to… what?”

“To you. And me, I guess,” his words are a little shaky from the alcohol in his system, but the gesture is pure. “To be better. And to not go anywhere.”

Steve eyes the blond boy suspiciously, expression taut. “You're out of chances, Billy. You gotta earn this. A pinky promise doesn’t fix  _ shit. _ We aren’t children.” 

Billy cackles probably a little louder than he would if he were sober and shakes his pinky, goading Steve to take it. “Just fucking do it, Harrington, I want to leave this godforsaken dance already,”

Steve hesitates a little bit, raising his hand up and extending his pinky finger. “On one condition,”

Billy ignores him and seizes his digit in his own, locking them together with a sloppy smile. “Too late!”

Steve tries to hide his grin. “You're drunk, Billy. Go home.” 

“Finally, man...I waited all this stupid time and I spent money on tryna look good for you and I was just.. “ he's rambling, grumbling, but Steve is listening to every word he's saying. “I picked up that annoying bitch Tiffany and I hoped you'd care but you didn't care and you were with Byers and Wheeler and…”

“Billy,”

“...But I knew I could make you jealous and shit….damn, Steve, you look so good in that outfit. Like, really good. Nice, even. Like it just makes me wanna -”

“Billy!” Steve pinches Billy's chin, shaking his jaw a little. Billy's tongue falls out and he tries to lick Steve's fingers. He tries to escape the blond boy's clutches but Billy's got his arms hooked around his waist. 

“Nuh uh…” Steve is squirming, laughing gleefully and despite attempts to shove Billy away, he sticks his tongue out again, flicking it at Steve and reaching towards his cheek. 

“Get your fucking tongue out of here! Aaahhh!” Steve firmly plants his hands on Billy's shoulders, trying to pry himself free. 

“C'mon Harrington, it's just like old times huh? Just get some chocolate on your mouth firsssst,”

Steve bites his lip as color flushes into his face. “Billy,” he whimpers, finally letting the struggle fade from his body.

Billy stops, unsure if the other boy is actually upset or not. “I'm sorry, Harrington. I juss thought-”

Steve exhales sharply, flaring his nostrils a little. “I sat down. And I told myself that I wasn't going to ever do this. That I wasn't going to give in because I don't deserve to be treated like shit. I sat for hours,  _ hours _ , trying to convince myself to let it end,”

Billy's arms are still enveloping him, surrounding his thin abdomen, holding him close. Steve isn't looking at him at the moment - he's looking at maybe the ceiling or something, but Billy's eyes are all over him. Taking in every inch of his face hungrily, thankfully, and invested.

“But here I am. God damn it, Hargrove. You make a mess out of me,” he takes some of Billy's hair and pushes it gently behind his ear. 

Billy's face is gentle, adoring, and a little looser than normal. “Can I tell you a secret, pretty boy?” he takes a hand from Steve's waist and trails a finger along Steve's cheekbone, down to his jaw, up to his lips.

“Uh huh,” Steve says, Billy's index finger resting on his bottom lip, tugging it a little bit.

“I cried.”

Steve's breathing turns a little shaky. 

“I fuckin' sobbed, Harrington. And all I wanted to do was talk to you about how sad I was...but it was you who made me sad, yanno?” Billy's slurring his words and he's saying shit he would most definitely not say if it wasn't his punch talking for him.

“Billy, I know, I was really-”

“Shhhhush, don't apologise to me, baby,” Billy's head hangs a little. “I'm just happy you...forgive me.”

Steve is flustered, a little speechless and even more hot and bothered because Billy is all up in his business. “Forgive is a little far off...from what I…”

“Awh, what?” Billy nuzzles his cheek up against Steve's, cradling the back of his head in his big hand. “Do I have to beg?” Billy's mouth is hovering above Steve's earlobe, breath heating up his skin. 

“God,” Steve groans, laughing and a little giddy as Billy digs his fingers into the sensitive parts around his hip. 

“Kiss me, Harrington,” Billy nibbles a little at the brunette’s ear.

“I'm supposed to be mad at you…” Steve slides away a little, avoiding his lips.

“You make everything so much bet-”

The rest of the lights turn on suddenly, and the boys can hear the wheels of a cart and some whistling. Figuring it's probably the school's maintenance person, Billy starts chuckling. 

“He's gonna think we're doin’ some crazy shit when he finds us,”

Steve immediately clasps his hand around Billy's mouth. “Shhh!” He pulls the blond up against some lockers. “We gotta get out of here.”

“So what, he finds us. What's he gonna do? Expel me? I'll just say I'm getting my gym clothes to take home n’ wash,” 

Steve shoots him an icy glare. “I don't want to get in any sort of trouble. I already got suspended, I'm trying to have a good future, okay?”

“I'll give you trou-”

Steve yanks him by the hand into the restroom part of the locker room. “In the stall. Now.”

As they're heading into the toilet, they hear more footsteps enter the locker room. They can make out muffled voices from afar. 

“We were informed that a couple of students were fighting in here, any sign of them at all?”

“No, I haven't seen anyone,” The janitor replies. “I just got here though, take a look around.”

“Billy, your fucking girlfriend ratted us out,” Steve glares at him.

Billy takes Steve's chin in his fingers. “Not my type,” he hisses.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Get up on the toilet. Crouch behind me.”

Billy is clearly not comprehending him, but he obeys nonetheless. “You gonna take a shit or somethin’? You want me to watch, is that it?”

Steve ignores his stupid question and stands for a minute, listening. “No, they're gonna check in here and I'll just tell them I'm using the bathroom. That's all.”

“And they're gonna believe that over my laundry story?”

Steve shrugs. “You probably don't ever do laundry, so yes.”

“I...are you saying I stink!?”

Steve smirks. “Am I?”

Billy puffs out his bottom lip in a pout and pulls Steve closer to him. He sits on the toilet and Billy wraps his arms around Steve's neck. “I like being this close to you,” he purrs in Steve's ear, sliding his hands all over Steve's body. “They think that we're fighting but that's faaaar from it, isn't it?”

Steve sinks his teeth into Billy's arm lightly before scolding him. “Shut up!” He whispers as the footsteps approach the bathroom. 

“Who's in here? What are you doing?”

“Uh, I just wanted to use the toilet...but I was embarrassed.” Steve calls out.

“What?”

“Uh...I didn't want it to..smell...in the Commons bathroom.”

Billy snorts, muffling it by burying his nose against Steve's neck. They can hear someone else laughing from the group of people outside the stall. 

“Did you see anyone else in here?” a voice, who is assumed to be the principal, responds, voice shaky, kind of as if he were trying to hide a laugh as well.

“Um, not at all. At least I hope no one is in here...and no offense, but if maybe you guys could…”

“We’ll be taking our leave. Thank you.”

As they start to walk away, the sounds of their laughter echoes throughout the locker room.

“That was fucking embarrassing...” Steve groans, and Billy reaches over his shoulder and starts whispering stupid shit in his ear again. Steve presses his palm on Billy's forehead, pushing him backwards. “Do you mind? And get off the toilet before you fall off, drunk ass.”

Billy nods and jumps off, slamming into the wall of the stall. The two are crammed together in a space made for one person, a dirty toilet shoving up against the back of Billy's calves. Steve is speechless, picking his nails and leaning up against the stall door, waiting for a chance to escape. 

But Billy has other plans.

He presses his chest up against Steve's, making throaty sounds like an aggressive feral cat, running his tongue along his teeth and grabbing at Steve's coat, hands, hair.

“Billy...what are you doing? Now isn't really -”

“Harrington, c’mon, this dance sucks. Let's blow it. Or something else,”

Steve feels faint, all of the heat in his body suddenly rushing up to his cheeks. “W-what?” Billy is grinning like a fool, smiling so broadly that his gums are all exposed.

“You heard me,” he licks his lips before leaning in for a hungry kiss.

Steve grabs Billy's hair by the nape and pulls his head back. “You're horny when you're drunk, fuck,” 

“Don't poke fun, Harrington. I remember you with them cookies,” he voluntarily leans his head backwards, easing Steve's grip. “And don't pull my hair if you don't want me turned on, pretty boy.”

Steve lets go of the other boy's roots immediately, rubbing his hands on his pants as if they're dirty. “Oh god, I need to get out of here before you say anything worse,” Steve laughs, pushing up against Billy further to open the stall door. “I hope you didn’t drive here-”

Steve is stopped by Billy grabbing his hand and spinning him around, pulling him close once more. Billy tries to lean in again for another kiss but Steve’s hand flies up and covers his mouth.

“Harrington, what the fuuuuck,” Billy sasses him, stomping his foot like a child throwing a tantrum.

“Billy, you gotta chill out.” He starts to walk away, and despite Billy’s watered-down mental state, he still understands. Things couldn’t just go back to the way they were. They still had a giant falling out and they still had to try to heal together. He can see some hurt in Steve's eyes when he looks at him. 

 

Billy's a little excited that Steve spoke to him, the liquor adding an extra layer of enthusiasm. His veins feel like they're coiled up inside of him - he feels restless and energetic when he finds Tommy, who’s dancing with his group of friends minus Billy’s date and demands that he take him home.

“Party is just getting started, dude, cant leave yet!” Tommy shimmies his shoulders like a fucking moron, giving Carol googly eyes. 

Billy makes a face at them and heads back to the punch bowl. He can practically hear Steve scolding him in his mind as he knocks back another glass. “You're drunk Billy, go home,” he groans mockingly. 

Standing there next to Tommy and Carol for what feels like an hour, he starts to bore. Drumming his fingers against his thigh, he heads to the bathroom, all of his liquid packing a heavy weight against his bladder. He stares at himself, all dressed up in his suit and tie, looking fake - looking like a fucking joke.

Billy tugs at his collar, tugs around his neck. Having no control over his fingers as he starts to take off his shirt, he laughs loudly to himself. He's mentally telling himself no, and to stop because he's going to make a scene but he can't force himself to give a single shit because he came here to get Steve's attention and oh boy is he going to fucking get it.

He bursts out from the bathroom with his shirt in his hand, and no one notices at first because the music is too loud, but slowly the other students start to turn their heads in surprise. Billy swings his shirt around above his head and screams as loud as he can. “Hawkins! Let's turn this into a real fucking party!”

Across the gym, Steve chokes on his Coke. He quickly looks over to Nancy and Jonathan, who do not look amused whatsoever.

“What the hell is he doing?” Nancy rolls her eyes as Tommy and a few other people begin taking off their shirts as well. Steve's eyes dart to the principal and a group of other teachers supervising the dance who are standing just outside of the gym having cigarettes, completely oblivious. 

“I told you, someone spiked the punch. It's ridiculous, this is at school not a damn house party,” Jonathan scoffs, and Steve considers him and remembers the night that Nancy had gotten drunk and told him that their relationship was bullshit. How Jonathan had been there for her that night. He should have seen it coming - Nancy and Jonathan. But he was just too ignorant. 

“Someone needs to stop him. I'm gonna go get a supervisor,” Nancy grumbles, stomping off through the hordes of stripped down high schoolers.

Steve absolutely cannot believe the sheer amount of people who went along with Billy and his absurd gestures. Well, maybe he can believe it. They weren’t wrong all those times when they’d said Hawkins had a new king.

 

An hour. Sixty minutes.  _ At least. _

It took at least an entire hour before the teachers were able to quell the riot that Billy had started. 

Steve, being Steve, is helping clean up the remains of the decorations. Streamers and confetti are shredded and strewn about the gym, the disco ball has a crack from where a shoe was thrown at it, and someone flipped over the concessions tables, broke all of the glass bowls that held the punch and ripped the tablecloth.

A couple of cops are talking to Billy outside, and Steve's pretty sure that they aren't arresting him even though they have a lot of reasons to. After one of the policemen walk away, he approaches the other boy, who's lighting up a cigarette with a shaky hand. He's still shirtless, even out here in the cold and he looks completely unbothered about it despite the goosebumps that line his arms.

“Hi,” Steve whispers. 

Billy takes a long drag, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand and looking over to Steve through his long eyelashes. “Hi,” he repeats back to him, smoke pouring out of his nose, voice flat. He hesitates before holding out his cigarette to Steve.

With a wave of his hand, Steve turns him down, shifting his weight a little bit. “Aren't you cold?” he digs the heel of his shoe a little into the snow underfoot.

Billy shrugs. “Kinda. Why don't you want my grit? Afraid of your lips goin’ where mine were? Afraid it's gay to share a cigarette?”

Steve furrows his brow in disbelief. “Where did that come from? Jesus, Billy,” he turns around and starts to head away, but Billy calls him back again. If he were smart, he'd have kept going and ignored him. 

But no one ever said Steve was smart.

“Hey,” Billy says once more, and Steve spins around slowly, arching an eyebrow at him.

“What now?”

“Can I...have a ride home?”

“You're walking on the fucking edge, Hargrove.”

 

“Underage drinking citation,” Billy grumbles, folding the little piece of paper up and sticking it in his pocket. 

“What did you think was going to happen, pulling a stunt like that, you dickhead?” Steve spits, carefully trying to avoid running any wasted high schoolers over on his way to drop Billy off.

“Fuckin’ thanks, Dad,” Billy shrugs again, more fluidity in his gestures than normal. “Wanted you to pay attention to me,” he says softly, and Steve shoots him the same kind of look he'd give Dustin after he does something stupid.

“Don't act like a child, Billy. I don't want to have this conversation.” He turns up the radio a little, trying to drown out the deafening silence in the car after he shoots the other boy down another time.

The irony of this entire scenario is duly noted by Steve when Billy reaches for the volume control on the radio, essentially muting it. “Can we talk, please?” He says, and Steve jots another mental tab down in his hypocrisy checklist - fondly remembering all of the times Steve had asked to have a serious conversation with Billy about literally  _ everything _ and he'd blown him off.

“No,” Steve responds sharply, turning the music back up moderately.

Billy purses his lips and turns away to face the passenger window, and Steve can still smell the alcohol on his breath despite him facing the opposite direction. 

Cherry Road seemed like twenty miles away, the quietness filling the air like noxious fumes. Steve takes note of Billy's fidgeting - bouncing knees, bobbing his head and tapping his fingers along the glove compartment to a beat that wasn't consistent with the song playing in the background. 

“Steve,” Billy speaks then, and the word startles Steve slightly. Makes his skin crawl. His name is tainted in regards to Billy - used as a weapon of mass destruction of the mental sort.

_ Steve _ , whispered softly as Billy would touch him, embrace him and make him feel all sorts of gooey.

_ Steve _ , yelled harshly, mockingly, at him as Billy berates him for having any sort of emotions because Billy only has time for emotions when they're his.

_ Steve _ , said plainly as Billy attempts to reason with him, here, in this car, right now because he's trying to get another chance. One more fucking chance. One fucking more.

No response. Steve doesn't waste his breath because he knows Billy is going to keep talking regardless of what he says. 

“I ffffffuckin’ need you,” Billy says, playing with his own hair nonchalantly, as if his words hold no weight. 

But is he serious? Or is he just drunk?

Throwing the BMW into park, Steve stares blankly forward. He refuses to look in Billy's direction, but he can tell the other is staring at him. Pleading him with his eyes. And that's exactly why he won't look, won't meet with those beautiful blue eyes that would most definitely turn the tide.

“Get out.”

Without too much protesting, he can hear Billy mumble something most likely hostile under his breath as he gets out of Steve's car. He watches him head up the steps to his front door, blond hair looking matted and snarly. He's fumbling with his key, but before he can find it, Max opens the door, ushering Billy inside quickly and waving to Steve. It looks like she's mouthing something, and he can't tell what but he's going to just assume it's a “thank you”.

_ What a fucking night. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is pretty long too. I just wanted to end this little bit because I feel like it drags lol. Thank you for taking time out of your day to read this ahh!!!   
> Also, I barely skimmed through this again so sorry for any errors lmfao


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! Friendly reminder I make extremely shitty art, and I made an extremely shitty drawing for this chapter! You can find it here: [Billy and Eleven - Walking on the Edge by Reylinne](https://reylinne.tumblr.com/post/172573748651/billy-and-eleven-would-be-best-friends-and-if-you?is_highlighted_post=1)  
> 

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Billy panics. He opens his closet, completely unsure what to wear. He has to look absolutely perfect and nothing less. He grabs his favourite red shirt and signature pair of too-tight jeans, rolling up his sleeves and wiggling into his pants. He runs a pick through his hair, spraying his bangs with a little bit of hairspray - twirling his signature curl between his fingers out in front of his forehead. Dabbing a little cologne on his neck, he grabs his keys from his dresser and hesitates with his hand on the door handle. Quickly running back to his closet, he rummages through and grabs his favourite shirt from when he was a freshman in high school. He's outgrown it, but it'll serve his purpose. With a tiny smile on his face, he grabs the plate of cookies he baked earlier from the countertop and heads out to the Camaro.

Standing on the porch with his eyes closed, running over potential conversations in his head, Billy heaves out a sigh. He's tapping his foot anxiously, repeating common friendly sayings in his head when the door swings open.  
“Hi,”  
Jonathan Byers gives him a once over. “Um, hello,” he raises an eyebrow. “Are you...lost...or?”  
“No, no, I'm uh, here for -”  
The door flings from Jonathan's grasp and slams open against the wall. “Billy!”  
Eleven comes bounding into the living room, reaching out to wrap her arms around Billy's waist.  
Billy grins helplessly at Jonathan, whose eyeballs look like they're about to pop out of his head in surprise.  
El takes Billy's hand and leads him inside to the kitchen. As the two of them enter, all of the laughter and happiness dies out. Nancy drops her drink, Lucas stops chewing mid-bite, and Max puffs out her bottom lip. She stands up and approaches.  
“Can I please just stay? I thought that it was okay if I came, I-I just really wanted to-”  
Billy shakes his head. “Shut the fuck up, twerp, I'm not here to pick your ass up,”  
The entire room is heavy with confusion until Eleven finally speaks. “I want him here.”  
Lucas is the first to react. He throws his hands up, food still packing his mouth. “Well, of course, if El wants him here, let's just all enjoy his company, huh!?”  
Eleven frowns. “He's my friend!” She grabs Billy's hand again and sends Lucas's popcorn soaring across the room, spilling it instantly.  
The bathroom door opens and Steve walks out, wiping his hands on his pants. “Hey hey hey, what the hell is going on?” He stops when he sees Billy standing there and Billy's heart sinks when he sees him. He's glad Steve is there, definitely, but he wishes they were on good terms. Actually, he’d been banking on the fact that Steve would be here, because otherwise he’d probably have gotten eaten alive like some sort of weird children cult ritual.  
Dustin starts waving his arms around maniacally. “Steve, ohmygod, Eleven thought it was a good idea to invite this dickhead here!”  
Steve starts to say something in response, but Billy interrupts him first. “Before anything dumb comes outta your mouth, Harrington, I-”  
“No, you know what's dumb? Having you here. What's wrong with you, El? Why would you invite him here? He could have killed Lucas. And Steve!” Mike starts shouting.  
Lucas nods in agreement with him. “You literally tried to stop Max from being friends with us!”  
Billy is just about to the end of his rope and it’s barely been five minutes. Did they all just conveniently forget that he was trying to be better? That he had tried to talk to Mike about Eleven, that he'd agreed to keep their secrets? “Oh, fuck off it, Sinclair, you don't know the whole story and I certainly haven’t forgotten where that foot of yours -”  
Nancy and Jonathan start in now. “Billy, I think you should really just leave. You don't ever stop being a dick for more than two minutes,” Nancy yells, approaching Billy and poking him firmly on the nose. He swats her hand away and Jonathan immediately gets between them, pushing himself right up against Billy's chest. “Quite frankly, no one wants you here,” he says.  
Billy is starting to see red. First, he gets verbally assaulted by a bunch of kids, then Wheeler sticks her stupid finger with her stupid press-on nail in his fucking face and now Byers is breathing fire down his throat. “Get your loser sewer breath outta my face, Byers, I'm gonna be sick. You ever heard of a toothbrush?”  
Eleven is screaming too. Screaming for them all to stop fighting but no one is listening to any of it. Mike and Dustin are yelling at her, Lucas, Nancy, and Jonathan are in Billy's face and she can't take it anymore. “SSSSTTTTOOOOPPPP IIIITTTTTT!” she shouts as loud as she possibly can, grabbing Billy's hand and sending a wave of force out to their surrounding assailants. They're knocked backwards, Lucas colliding with Nancy, Dustin tripping over the coffee table.  
Billy is in shock, mouth agape, and he's pretty sure that her doing that would most likely have the opposite effect and make everyone hate him more. But whatever, pick your poison. As the hypothetical dust clears, he glances around, taking note of the fact that Will Byers is still sitting on the couch, Max had joined him, and Steve is leaning against the wall. None of them were arguing against Billy. Or for him, for that matter, but that isn't really relevant.  
He understands their general dislike of him, he really does, because quite frankly, Billy is an asshole and he knows it. If there was one thing he wishes for it would be for them to at least understand that there's a reason behind his anger, a method to his mayhem if you will, but no one does. And most importantly, he wishes they understood the fact that he's been trying to get better.  
Locking eyes with Will, the boy smiles softly at him. He returns it as best he can, even though it probably ends up coming out more like a grimace. And then he looks to Steve, who has an unreadable look on his face. And Billy's pissed just staring at him, looking so nonchalant, leaning up against the wall like he's had no part in any of the madness. And he hasn't, to be fair. But it angers Billy nonetheless. Because it’s Harrington and he’s mad at Billy so naturally Billy has to be angry back because reasons. Can’t show weakness.  
“He's my friend!” Eleven yells, staring everyone down, wiping the blood from her nose. She then turns to look at Billy with a smile, changing her tone 100%. No one speaks, and the room looks like a Wild West ghost town. Everyone has retreated to the walls, spread out and defeated.  
He attempts to grin back, shrugging a little bit before then remembering the cookies. Perfect way to escape the deafening silence. “Damn, I almost forgot that I brought you guys some shit. I left it in my car. I'll be right back,” he sprints outside at breakneck speed, closing the door gently behind him, lighting up a much needed cigarette and taking a break after all of that disaster.  
Inside, everyone is talking loudly trying to shout over each other. Eleven is louder.  
“Shut up!” She yells, stomping her foot. “Billy is NICE.”  
“Since when?” Lucas spits, folding his arms across his chest.  
“He let me braid his hair. Helping me read Midsummer. Friend.”  
Mike throws his hands up. “Oh, good! Hanging out! I love it!  
“You know he helps me, Mike. Rude,” Tears start to swell up in El’s eyes. “If he's mean, he will leave. Grow up.” She runs her knuckle along her cheek, collecting a tear and whimpering a little bit. “Everyone deserves a chance.”  
The noise in the room dies down enough, and she shoots Steve a look. He nods knowingly in response, and despite the fact that he doesn’t want to, he slips out the front door while everyone else is occupied.

Billy takes a long drag from his cigarette, glancing over his shoulder to see Steve approaching. He wishes Steve would leave him alone, honestly - he has nothing to say to him after all of the times Steve has shot him down recently. “Hey,” Ignoring his own hypocrisy and pissed at himself for initiating conversation, he breathes heavily, holding the cookies wrapped in tin foil in his other hand. “Thought you didn't want anything to do with me.”  
Steve fumbles with his watch and Billy stares at him doing so. He takes note of all of Steve’s nervous habits. He’s on edge. “Well you're here now, I can't just ignore you.”  
“That's kind of a dick move, but whatever,” Billy grumbles, practically inhaling his entire cigarette. He kicks rocks around under his shoes, purposely avoiding the brunette. Billy Hargrove doesn’t have any sort of anxiety. Or so he thinks. He thinks that Steve definitely brings out the worst in him in regards to that.  
“What's that?” Steve pokes the foil, startling Billy slightly.  
A wolfish grin spreads across Billy's face. He wants to walk past Steve but he can't bring himself to ignore him, not when a little mischief is so close within his grasp. “Cookies. Your favourite,” he sticks his cigarette between his lips and pulls the cover back slightly.  
He sees Steve's cheeks flush a little pink. Most likely at the memory of the last time he’d had cookies, but he's clearly trying to act disinterested. “Yeah, my favourite,” his eyes flick up to Billy's, classically frisky in nature. He grabs a cookie from the plate and takes a small bite. “Shit, you make the best cookies. How do you do it?” Wordlessly, Billy mocks offence that Steve has taken one of his precious baked goods. He hesitates before he cocks an eyebrow and leans forward, taking a bite out of the cookie Steve's holding in hand.  
Steve falters in response, backs up a step, but Billy can see the longing in his blown pupils. Billy brushes past him, snubbing his cigarette out on the dead half snow-covered grass. Billy had to commend the other boy for trying to keep up whatever walls he had put up to try to lock Billy out, but the fact alone that Steve had came out here was enough to prove to Billy that he doesn't want to stay away.  
Steve starts to open his mouth, as if he was searching for the words he wanted to say to Billy. His stare is so full of emotion and Billy notes it. They spend a few seconds just taking each other in, eyes hungrily engulfing everything about one another. Billy coughs after a moment, abruptly breaking the heavy tension. Running a hand through his hair and pursing his lips, he shifts his attention away from the brunette to make sure he has everything - the shirt, the cookies, his dashing smile.  
Making sure to graze Steve's shoulder lightly as he passes, Billy tosses a glance back at the other boy as he waits on the doorstep for the second time that day. He feels a little guilty, staring at Steve, posture slouched and holding his arm where Billy had walked past; a phantom feeling of remembrance.  
“Alright twerps,” Billy announces as he enters the house again, holding the plate of baked goods high above his head. “I made you all some fuckin’ cookies. Think of it as a peace offering or something like that.”  
Excited kids swarm around him, their disdain for him melting away immediately. Each of the kids grab two or three cookies except for Eleven. She hangs back a little and approaches after everyone has gotten theirs first.  
“Thank you,” she says quietly, taking a bite. Her expression morphs into bliss as she enjoys her cookie a little too much. “So good!” She exclaims. Billy sets the plate down and reaches for his stuffed back pocket, with the gift he brought poking out a bit.  
“I bear this gift for you, madam,” he hands her the wrinkled shirt, presenting it in a grand fashion. She eagerly grabs the neck and lets the rest fall, shaking it out excitedly.  
“Led Zeppelin!” She squeals, hopping up and down a little bit.  
“Now, that was my favourite shirt ever for a long time so you better-”  
“Treasure it. I will, so much.” She pulls it over her head, on top of her current outfit. It's a little baggy but she's excited regardless. “Smells like Billy.”  
He rubs the back of his head. “Haha, yeah, it probably does. I uh, I hope that's a good thing,”  
Eleven pulls the shirt up to her nose. “A great thing.” She attempts to reach up and ruffle his hair like he’s done to her in the past but fails when Billy rests his arm on her head and stands on his tiptoes.  
“You can’t reach the gods, little girl,” he growls playfully and she cackles.  
“So weird.” A voice, Henderson’s, calls out from the crowd.  
Billy smiles awkwardly and looks up to see every face in the room staring at him with at least a half smile. “Uhh,” he feels a small blush flood his cheeks from embarrassment. Apparently Steve notices as well because he draws the attention away, and Billy is very thankful.  
“What a damn guy. These cookies are amazing. Let's pick a movie, huh?”

It's Nancy and Jonathan’s turn to pick and they pick Casablanca. Everyone groans and after 45 minutes of the movie, the kids start to disperse to different parts of the house. Jonathan and Nancy are so into each other and the movie that they aren't even aware that everyone has snuck away, or perhaps they just aren't bothered.  
Steve dips out into the kitchen, a cookie in hand, whistling. He starts to open the fridge, but a hand closes the door before it gets too far.  
“Hey,”  
It's Billy, leaning up against the fridge, arm extended.  
“Hey,” Steve replies, smiling a little, even though it looks clearly forced. “That was really cool, what you did for Eleven.”  
Billy shrugs him off, turning his body and planting his arms on the counter behind him. “Yeah, I guess. I don't even like kids,”  
Steve arches an eyebrow. “Seems like I've heard that before. But I can tell Eleven really likes you.” He folds his arms, looking down at his feet. “She sees the good in you. That's what it is.”  
Billy makes a face. “There isn't a lot of it,”  
“Oh please.” Steve puckers his lips. “You spent a lot of time getting ready for this. I can tell,”  
“No way,”  
“I can smell you, Billy.”  
Billy fakes a surprised look. “Oh yeah? What do I smell like?” The second time someone has commented on his scent in one day must make it a compliment, right?  
Steve ponders for a moment, picking his nails, “Good stuff,”  
“Very specific, Harrington. I like it.” Billy walks away and looks around the room, studying the furniture and the wallpaper and literally everything for no reason except for escaping Steve and the feelings he's getting from being near him.  
Steve is impressed with Billy for sure - he really has done an outstanding job of trying to better himself. Steve scratches his head, watching the way Billy carries himself. He walks heavily, threatening, almost, but at this point Steve sees him as nothing but a puppy with a few anger issues.  
He wonders what kind of shit he went through when he got home from the hospital, and wonders if he gave Max the gift and if she liked it and if Billy felt good about giving her something. He wonders if he felt the wrath of his father the night after the dance, wonders if he had found out about his underage drinking ticket. And he wonders if maybe it wasn’t time to give a little.  
“I like it too,” Steve says softly, approaching the fleeing Billy from behind.  
Steve pushes golden strands behind Billy's ears when he turns around, and the expression on the blond’s face is questioning - and rightfully so, but Steve can't help himself. “What? You like what?”  
Steve places his hands on the sides of Billy's face, running his thumbs along his cheek bones. “You have a majestic and musty aroma,” he speaks in a posh English accent.  
Billy laughs, cupping his hands around Steve’s as if to anchor him down. “What the fuck? You're weird as hell, Harrington,”  
The sentence snaps Steve back to reality, a reality in which he was trying to rid himself of Billy and all of the trouble he caused. He had been doing a pretty good job of it too. But Billy is so pretty when he smiles. His smile is so genuine and he looks so nervous and a little uneasy whenever he grins - he doesn't do it enough, Steve decides. He locks in on the other boy for a moment, drowning himself in Billy's ocean eyes. He glances around the room, listening to Nancy and Jonathan stirring in the living room and hearing the kids across the house. He turns back to Billy.  
“I'm so glad you're my friend, Billy.”  
“We're friends now, huh? You've decided this? I thought you were done with me,” Billy whispers, eyelashes fanning out across his cheeks as he rests his forehead against the brunette’s. “What even is a friend, anyway?” He reaches his hands up to Steve, tangling his thick fingers in Steve's styled hair.  
Steve snorts a little bit, pulling away first before suddenly reaching out and planting a light kiss on Billy's lips. He pulls back, watching color flood Billy's face. “A friend is someone you kinda wanna kiss sometimes...right?”  
Billy's lip quivers. “U-uh, mhm…” he releases Steve and brushes imaginary dirt off of his jeans, picking nonexistent lint and so strangely interested in the design of the dishtowels behind them.  
Steve decides that awkward and nervous Billy Hargrove is his favourite Billy. He pops open a can of Coke, raising his eyebrows and smirking at Billy. Taking a sip of his soda, he re-enters the living room, leaving Billy alone with his thoughts.

And oh boy, think, Billy sure did.  
He stares so long at the archway to the living room in Steve’s absence that he feels like he could bore holes in the wall.  
Steve.  
Steve didn't get it.  
Steve spent time and time again trying to make Billy feel something - anything - and while Billy appreciates the sentiment, he just doesn't feel the way Steve wants him to. It's as if he's emotionless, so very plain and monotone. Or maybe it’s not that Billy doesn’t feel the way Steve wants, it’s that he can’t give in to what he wants.  
Disgusting is definitely a word to use to describe Billy’s actions. Repulsive, abusive, and wrong are others. He was rude, aggressive, and hurt Lucas, Max, and Steve. Billy was starting to get pissed just thinking about it all. He pinches the bridge of his nose and purses his lips. More than anything, after experiencing a tiny glimpse of the friendship that these people all share together, he wishes that he could have a friendship like that. He wishes that he could be friends with Steve, hang out with Steve, just talk to Steve - but he’s always going to fuck it up somehow. He always does. Max, Neil, Susan, and Harrington himself are always keen to remind him of it, too. It’s easier to just push everyone away.  
And the worst part about it was that he couldn't just blame Steve. Their relationship was anything but clear - in fact, it was so damn foggy that Billy kind of felt like he would rather shoot himself in the foot than even be near the damn guy. But then again, there’s the part of him that wants nothing but to flip everyone the bird and pull Steve in for the tightest hug they’d both ever received. Fuck feelings.  
But Steve.  
Steve was here and he was apparently willing to try again. And this time, Billy was not going to let this chance escape him, not going to let Harrington escape him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a hot minute since I updated this. I've been suffering a crisis as to whether or not I should take the next chapter out or not. When I wrote this fic, initially it was in completely separate chunks and I kind of combined them all into one and now that I'm reworking it all, it seems awkward and out of place. But whatever. Thank you for those of you who have stuck by this fic that now has over 3000 hits! I can't believe it! <3 Much love.


	16. Chapter 16

Clearly the bottom line is that Steve is a prick. That's all there is to it - hiding in the locker room just to  _ talk _ to him - Or so he says. He wasn't complaining about only wanting to talk when Billy's hand was wrapped around his dick.

_ But why the fuck did you do that, Billy? _

Billy slams his palms into his temples, running hands through his hair, a massive migraine coming on strong.

_ Why do you do stupid shit? No wonder Steve didn’t want anything to do with you. _

He shivers at the memory of Steve's fingers jabbing into his bare back. Closing his eyes, he  remembers the face Steve made when their bodies were touching, recalls the way his body buckled at Billy's caress, hears the way he gasped at the feeling of warmth from another body so close.

And suddenly Billy feels angry,  _ so angry _ . He kicks the table leg as hard as he can. “Fuck!” He grumbles, just as a woman walks into the kitchen carrying a bag of groceries. He's embarrassed despite the fact that he was partly anticipating Steve or Jonathan or Nancy to check on the noise, but this woman being here was the icing on the awkward cake.

“Hello,” she says cautiously, placing the paper bags that she was carrying on the dining table. “Are you one of Jonathan's friends?”

“No,” Billy says, immediately mentally punching himself, face twisted up in humiliation. “Well, kind of.”

“Kind of?” The woman questions, nodding her head slowly. Billy notes that the movie is still going at full volume, so he abandons the fear of the three others in the living room eavesdropping.

“I'm sorry, Ms. Byers. I'm Max's step brother,” He reaches a hand behind his head, playing with his hair nervously.

Her face scrunches up a little at the mention, and Billy feels like he's just dug his own grave. “Oh, so you must be Billy. I've heard about you.” She's clearly sizing him up, and he knows immediately that everything she's heard has been inherently bad.

Despite her potential feelings, Billy forces himself to hold his hand out to shake. “I'm glad to meet you,”

She grabs his hand, a strange smile on her face. “Joyce,”

Billy nods. “Do you need any help putting those away at all?” He gestures to the groceries.

Joyce's mouth is open, and she initially looks like she's going to shrug him off, but she reevaluates. “You know what? Sure.” She takes a gallon of milk from the bag before grinning at him. “Thank you. Not a Casablanca fan?”

“I mean, it's a classic, don't get me wrong,” Billy replies with a chuckle, putting some vegetables in the fridge. “But I just wasn't in that kind of mood tonight.”

Joyce makes a noise in understanding. “So are you just here for Max?”

“No, I, um, was actually invited by Eleven.”

Joyce pauses, eyes shifting to meet Billy's. He smiles broadly, and it probably looks quite scary.

“I'm her friend.”

She purses her lips. “Oh, um...alright.”

Billy knows she's going to ask judging by the look of sheer confusion on her face so he offers her the information she's wondering about. “I uh...I was picking up Max and she was there. I accidentally saw her use her powers.”

Almost on cue, Eleven comes bounding down the hallway and encircles Joyce in a hug, then approaches Billy and wraps her arms around his waist. “Billy,”

“Hey girl,” he says quietly, slinging an arm around her shoulders, a canister of oatmeal in his hand. 

“Joyce is good.” Eleven says, looking between them.

“El, I didn't know you liked Led Zeppelin,” Joyce laughs, poking her finger lightly on her arm.

“Billy's,” she looks up at him and he feels a little weird. He definitely wasn't used to this kind of attention - good attention of a pure variety.

“Awh, how nice of you, Billy.” Joyce smiles her best mom smile at him and he feels warmth in his veins. “Any friend of Eleven's is a friend of ours.”

Billy has a pounding urge to throw himself through the window. He wants to escape, to not talk to these people anymore, and to just go on living his life the way he had when he first moved here. Fucking alone. Their happiness was probably going to kill him, he’s so used to being miserable at all times that he’s genuinely afraid that being here a whole lot longer might actually end his life.

“How long are you staying?” Eleven asks, grabbing Billy's hands and swinging them around.

Billy hates kids. With a passion. He's never liked them. But this one - Eleven. So strange. Her behavior is bizarre. He knows that everyone gave him the absolute baseline of backstory for her. He wonders about her origins - he knows that she's Hopper's daughter, but he doesn't remember him having a daughter a few months ago.

Suspicions aside, the fact that this little girl had just been completely enamored with him since they'd met was lost upon him. He didn't understand whatsoever how she could just  _ like _ him despite the protests of literally every single person she knew. She'd just wanted to touch him all the time, giving him hugs and playing with his hair and holding his hands. Studying his face and touching his jacket and leaning her head against his chest. 

He's not stupid - he knows little kids have crushes on their friends’ older siblings, it just happens and he definitely had a crush on Janet Engelmann when he was in fifth grade back in San Diego but something is different with her - it’s not that she even has a crush on him at all. She’s just so interested in him. Maybe Steve was right, maybe she can see some good in him.  _ If  _ it’s even there in the first place.

Billy flops his arms around and Eleven laughs. “I don't know, I might head out soon. I'm gonna go see what Steve's up to.”

Eleven pulls Billy's hands up to her cheeks, holding them against her face. “Steve.”

“Yeah, Steve. I'm gonna go-” he starts to walk away but she pulls him back.

“He loves you.”

Billy's blood turns to freeze. He hesitates, first giving Eleven a look, then shifting his eyes to Joyce, who is also most definitely interested in their conversation. 

Billy forces an ugly laugh out. “Yeah, he thinks I'm cool I guess. It's weird.” He jerks his arm out of El’s grasp a little rougher than he would have liked and heads to the living room, unfortunately wearing his discomfort on his face. He stalks toward Steve, who's standing behind the couch that had been moved earlier to make a blanket fort, drinking his stupid coke.

Steve turns to look at Billy, swiftly approaching. He puts his hand on Steve's hip and gets right up in his face, nostrils flaring in anger. He sees Steve's eyes dart down to make sure that Jonathan and Nancy are still engrossed in their film, and then looks back at the blond. 

“Did you tell Eleven?” Billy whispers aggressively.

“Tell her what?”

“About your weird crush on me.”

Steve chuckles. “Oh, my crush? No. Did you tell her about  _ your _ crush? On me?” he plants his palm sharply onto Billy's chest, pushing him back a little.

Billy glides his tongue across his teeth. “She told me you _ love me.” _

Steve's expression falls. “She was probably joking, maybe quoting a show or something...I don't know.”

Billy cocks an eyebrow, releasing Steve and stepping back. “Right,” He points a finger accusingly at the other boy, still whispering. “And by the way - I do not have any sort of feelings for you, you dick.” He quickly checks the room to make sure no one saw the confrontation and sighs in relief, switching the subject. “What time are you sticking around until?” 

Steve doesn't look at him. “Whenever the movie's done. You watch a movie on movie night.”

Billy rolls his eyes and ignores him, heading down the hall, checking all the doors until he finds Will’s. When he opens the door, all form of chatter ends and five heads turn simultaneously to look at him.

“Uh, hey,” he says, leaning against the door frame. “What time are you wanting to head out?” he directs his attention to Max.

“Um,” she looks to everyone else. “Well I kind of wanted to stay…” she starts to grab her coat off of the floor.

Billy puts his hands up. “No, no, you can stay. I'm sure you'd rather get a ride from Steve anyways.” he starts to turn around.

“Hey, Billy?”

Billy turns around slowly, half expecting to get spitballed. “Henderson.”

“Wanna play with us? We're playing Monopoly. We just started.”

Billy begins to shoot a sarcastic comment back but stops himself, biting his lip. “Sure. But if you dweebs are planning on working together to bankrupt me, you're all toast.”

The party laughs, but Will laughs the hardest. “Burnt toast?” 

Billy plops down on the floor between Mike and Max. “Soooo fuckin’ burnt. Like inedible. Disgusting toast.” Billy grins through his words.

The kids giggle and a second chance is starting to look a little more likely, and Billy's heart feels a little bit lighter.

 

Billy is dominating. He has two hotels on each of his properties and Lucas has just landed on his Boardwalk. 

“Hmm, that'll be...literally everything in your arsenal, Sinclair,” Billy growls playfully.

“Ugh, I made it so far!” He shouts, handing all of his properties and dollars over to Billy. Lucas pretends to cry and laughs. It's down to Billy and Mike now, and Billy uses his turn to purchase more houses and hotels for his properties in anticipation of Mike's move. “You're going down, Little Wheeler!” 

“No way!” 

Jonathan suddenly enters the room with a smirk. “Alright, I think it's getting a little late,” he says a little too cheerfully, and Billy would be lying if he said it didn't annoy the shit out of him.

Billy throws down his wads of money. “Fuck you, Byers, I'm kicking ass!”

“Oh, you can't break it up yet!” Mike pleads. “Im gonna beat him!”

Jonathan smiles. “Next time. It's two in the morning, your parents are probably all worried,”

Billy shrugs, reaching out his palm. “Guess we'll have to have a rematch, huh, LW?”

Mike gives him a high five. “Deal.”

The kids all abandon ship when it's time to clean up and scatter around the house. Billy sighs, he should have been expecting to have to deal with putting the game away. He throws his hands up in exasperation, unsure where to put anything because it's not his shit, not his house and he  _ really _ doesn't want to go out and ask. 

Awkwardly stumbling over clothes and books, he tries to shove the box on top of a bookshelf that he's too short to reach and wonders how the fuck little kids get at this shit. He lets out a frustrated sigh and tosses it, knocking over and getting assaulted by a flood of papers in the process.

He steps back and starts gathering them up, noticing they're drawings. He hesitates, finger tracing over a drawing of a weird shape, maybe some sort of monster on the horizon. He wonders if it's something from the weird nerd games they play.

Billy's train of thought is interrupted by Will, who's clearly coming to collect him. “Hey, Billy, we were thinking that maybe -” he stops dead in his tracks when he sees Billy with the pictures in his hands, “put those down! What are you doing?!”

Billy's blood turns cold, thrown into panic mode. “What? I-I’m sorry, they fell when I put the box up on the -”

The power surges and Will starts yelling, screaming. “No, no, no!”

Billy is totally lost in this situation as Steve, Jonathan and Joyce all run into the room. “What's happening!?” Billy tries to leave the room but is grabbed by Steve.

“What did you do?” The lights are  blinking, flickering rapidly. “What if it's…?” He turns to look at Jonathan and Joyce, then locks eyes with Nancy down the hallway. 

A loud bang sounds from outside of the house followed by an obscure rumbling. “Fuck! I gotta grab the bat!” Steve runs towards the front door, grabbing Billy by the hand, yanking him along. “Come with me, I don't have time to explain!”

Jonathan and Nancy huddle around the kids and Joyce is practically sobbing with her hands on her head. “Not again, not again…”

“What the fuck, Harrington!?” Billy feels like he's either about to get murdered by a cult or an otherworldly monster.

“NO! Stop!” Eleven is calling out from across the room, trying to close the door but Steve’s body is In the way, already halfway out.

“Stay back!” He shouts, pulling Billy through the door before it finally slams.

It's dark outside, and very quiet. No sounds of cars in the distance, and no lights along the horizon. Steve tries to drag Billy towards his car but Billy plants his feet and rips his arm free.

“Steve, you need to explain to me what's going on, right fucking now!!” He’s clearly flustered, and Steve doesn’t blame him one bit. His hands are shaky as he throws them down,

Steve looks uneasy, which is pretty usual for him, but a different kind of uneasy. A scary uneasy. “You need to come with me. I need to get to my car,”

Billy yanks Steve's arm back and collides his palm hard against Steve's face.

Steve reels, grabbing at his cheek with an angry look in his eyes. “Ouch, did you just slap me? Fuck you, Billy! That hurt! This is important!!”

“Why do you think I only smacked you and didn’t knock your lights out, you tart? Tell me what's happening!”

When Steve ignores him, Billy stomps back up the steps to the Byers' house, the sound of the creaking boards echoing off of the trees surrounding them. He opens the door to darkness. The house is empty, lights off. The lamp post outside of the house flickers twice, and Billy suddenly feels his knees buckle. “S-Steve….” He mumbles, voice cracking.

Steve's head shoots up from his trunk, grabbing his favourite bat. “What?!”

“They're gone…” Billy is standing there on the porch, looking at Steve over his shoulder with a look so forlorn and lost that it sends chills down Steve's spine. Fear spreads like a drug coursing through the brunette’s veins, looking past Billy into the blackness inside of the Byers’ house which was just filled with bustling teenagers.

_ “Holy shit…” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is pretty short, it ended up being an awkward cut off again. Also I'm sorry I haven't been updating as often, I've had a lot of shit going on in my life in the past couple of weeks and I've just been really over my head drowning in stress. Thank you all for sticking through this with me!
> 
> **ALSO**  
>  A side note: This is the beginning of the part of the story that I've been internally struggling with for like the last month or two, as to whether or not I should cut this bit out.  
> I ultimately decided to keep it in, because I think too much happens in the next couple of chapters that affects the story later on. So if you feel like this is cliche or lame, I kind of feel like it is too, but I wrote this all as separate bits and to cut this chunk out would have been more of a loss than a gain I think. Oh well. Thanks <3
> 
> **Also x2**  
>  If you haven't already read it, and feel like having some major angst/feels, I've started a series and the first entry is a doozy.  
> [Billy, I Mean. (The Harringrove Journals)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14369712)  
> 


	17. Chapter 17

"The fucking  _ what?” _

“I told you! The upside-down,”

Billy, suddenly faint, reaches for the hood of one of the cars in the driveway for leverage. “I'm getting sick,” he grumbles, barely catching the breath he had just lost upon getting briefed. “Little Wheeler told me that Eleven found Little Byers in the upside-down,”

Death by otherworldly monster it is.

“It's essentially like our world but a mirror of it...a dark world. With... evil shit….”

“Great! Evil shit! Fucking awesome!” Billy tosses his arms up in exasperation, a fake smile spread broadly across his face.

“Look, I don't know what to do, and I'm not going to lie to you about it. I thought we closed the gate, I-I thought it was over,” Steve touches the front door to the house. “We must have went through a portal to this world but...I didn't even feel it?” he breathes sharply through his nose and runs his hands along the length of his body midair as if to try to calm himself. “I d-dont know what to do, Billy, I-I can't-”

He's startled by Billy's hands on his shoulders, shaking him a little. “You need to tell me what the fuck is going on! And how the fuck to get out! Because I am not dying here, you prick! My ass is gonna go cross the rainbow bridge when I'm old as shit and not hot anymore, sitting in a nice chair on a beach back in Cali!”

Steve, ignoring the fact that the rainbow bridge is usually associated with pets, would normally be annoyed by Billy’s lack of ability to take anything seriously. Right now, though, he's grateful for that attitude. He sighs, struggling to calm himself down out of his anxiety attack - and Billy’s fuck-it-all disposition was actually helping. For once. “I don't really know what else to say...can you... tell me why Will was freaking out at least?”

Billy scoffs. “Oh, so now is as good of a time as any to catch up on whatever Billy did that was wrong, huh?”

“What?” Steve shakes his head. “No, no just...he was here. For a long time. In the upside-down.”

Billy places a finger on Steve's chin curiously. “That’s what Little Wheeler said,” he arches an eyebrow, “Explain,”

Steve digs his fingers into his temple at Billy’s turn of the tables. Now really isn’t the time for this, but he supposes that he isn’t really sure what now is the time  _ for _ because he has  _ no idea _ what to do.  He decides to keep it short and sweet. “Ugh. Last year, Will went missing for like a week and we thought he died. When really, he was here. In this world,”

“And how the  _ fuck _ did he get here?”

“A monster took him,”

Billy looks at Steve for a second before bursting out into loud laughter. “A monster took him? Oh, did he have big scary fangs?” He bares his own teeth mockingly, pulling up on the corners of his lips with his fingers, widening his eyes in a lame joking attempt to strike fear in the other boy.

“Shhh!” Steve reaches out and covers Billy's mouth, “I don't know if there are any around!”

Billy flicks his tongue against Steve's palm, who rips it away immediately and wipes it on his pants, disgusted. 

So childish.

“Hope your hands weren't down your pants, Harrington,” Billy bites his lip in the cocky way that Billy does and it infuriates Steve that he’s utterly turned on by it.

Regardless, Steve absolutely cannot believe the immaturity of this boy even in such an extraordinary situation. “You're trying to be funny  _ right now _ ? Is this a good time for hijinks, asshole?”

Billy shrugs. “Well, I figure I'm gonna die soon, so I might as well live it up, huh? Always wanted to lick your dick hands.”

“Fuck you.” Steve slings his bat over his shoulder, trudging past him, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing the blush creeping across his cheeks. Entering the Byers' empty house, he twirls his armament loosely. “We should find you a weapon. Look for a wrench or a crowbar or something.”

Billy reluctantly tags along  behind Steve after dawdling a little bit. He touches his finger tip gently to one of the nails. “This bat almost hit me in the balls,” he abruptly blurts out, pricking his finger a little and sticking it in his mouth, metallic taste of blood swirling around his tongue.

Steve stops and looks at him, enticed. “You remember that?”

Billy shoots him an icy glare in response, and Steve turns away, trying to not focus on the other boy’s lips lingering a little too long on his digit. “Yeah, that was right after Maxine shoved that needle in my neck. I remember all of that. And then you guys left, I heard you all leaving, and after that it goes blank,”

“But you don't remember grabbing my ass in front of your dad?”

“Fucking  _ what!?”  _ Sheer terror spreads all throughout Billy's normally stony face. Steve feels guilty for giggling, especially since Billy looked more afraid of potentially hitting on someone in front of his father than death via demogorgon.

_ “ _ I'm kidding, I'm kidding, chill out,” Steve lets his hand drift down to envelope Billy's and tension hangs in the air until the blond rips away from him. He saunters around the Byers’ house for a little while as Steve idles in the living room having another panic attack.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Couldn’t he have at least gotten stranded here with someone competent? Billy may appear to be rough-and-tumble and there was zero doubt in Steve's mind that Billy would win a fight against every single person in Hawkins - but against a demogorgon? The mind flayer?

Nancy had told him about the time she’d briefly traveled here through the portal in the tree. There had to be some way to get out, some type of barrier. They just had to find it.

Before they get mauled.

Killed.

Minced.

Steve continues to suffer until Billy returns, having grabbed a hammer. The brunette is biting his nails, tapping his foot, and mumbling nonsense to himself when Billy approaches. 

“This'll do for now I guess.” he twirls it around, giving Steve the side-eye. He can tell Billy is a little on edge, can tell Billy sees that Steve is having an episode, but he clearly doesn't really know how to react to it - quite frankly, Steve doesn't blame him. “I can't believe you people drugged me,” He attempts to veer the conversation onto another rail successfully.

Steve groans, switching his hands out in his mouth, nails on his left hand nearly down to the nub. “You deserved it, honestly. You literally beat my face in.” And he wants to tell Billy more about that night. He'd told him plenty, but he wants to tell him  _ more _ . More, about how he'd felt. How he didn't know he'd felt until later. How it was the first time that he'd seen Billy show any sort of emotion other than aggression and it was nice to experience it. 

_ Nice _ , Steve thinks, smirking at how ignorant he'd truly been. Realistically, he should hate Billy. Should hate him with all of his heart for all of the things he's done but he just can't. He feels like that night was the beginning of the end in a way, a weird way. Weird because it should have been the day that Steve called the police on Billy for assault and had him arrested, should have been the start of pure hatred for Billy but after everything, it ended up being not the beating he had taken that left an impact on his soul but the very first sliver of humanity he’d seen in the other boy.

Billy shrugs nonchalantly. “You're right.”

“I know I am,” Steve grumbles before shifting his weight, a little uneasy. “And you know what?”

Billy glares at him but he doesn't speak. Steve is analyzing the look Billy is giving him, judging the way his eyes are scanning him. He can't read the other boy - his lips are pursed tightly and his brows are furrowed. “Ugh, what is this, another lecture?”

“No. Sort of.” Steve holds up his hands, smirking a little. “If you want my hands after I've touched my dick, just come over at night sometime. Chances are I've probably been alone in my room,” he takes a step towards the other boy, “for hours,” another step. He stops only when he's mere inches from Billy's face, and in that moment he feels like he's towering over Billy despite that fact that he's barely shorter than Steve. “Probably thinking about your hot body all up against mine in the locker room.”

Billy's jaw drops, cheeks flooding pink. He turns away and huffs out a breath. “What is that supposed to mean?” He says, facing the complete opposite direction, clearly hiding his embarrassment. Steve snickers a little at Billy's nostrils flaring.

“You know exactly what it means.” He reaches his hand out and pats Billy on the back, his stance firm but frail - just as he'd done to Steve seemingly right after they'd met and he and Tommy had chastised him in the locker room after practice.

The first time Billy had called him pretty boy.

He’d called him pretty boy and turned off his shower head to get his attention.

Steve stares at him quizzically, wondering if maybe Billy has been gay this entire time. Set his blue  eyes on him the second he’d seen him. Closeted by his own internal homophobia plus the clear judgment from his family and everyone else in small town Indiana. A couple months ago Billy was the alpha dog, making Steve squeamish by undressing in front of him and making jokes but now... _ now  _ Steve is the clear winner. Now that Steve has come to terms with the way he feels, he can undoubtedly see that Billy is still struggling. And since Billy basically begged him for one more chance, he's gonna fucking give it. And damn it, if it wasn't fun watching him squirm.

He's been there. He's been exactly in Billy's place - lost and unsure and reluctant to come to terms with having such a fondness for another guy. And for Steve, it was one hundred percent Billy's fault, so the least he could do is poke some fun at him while he’s going through the same shit Steve had already come to terms with. Especially after all of the times that Billy had made him feel like trash. Because really, if Billy's gonna call Steve a fag and make fun of him for being interested in him all the while hiding his own feelings, he might as well make him writhe a little in his hypocrisy.

“There's no fucking way you don't feel it,” Steve says plainly, offering no explanation because absolutely none was necessary. 

“Shut the fuck up, Harrington. I don't feel shit. I feel angry and...and fucking diseased walking around in this fucking place, that's what.” Billy starts to stomp away, but Steve grabs his shoulder. Billy whirls around, running his hands through his curls, looking completely bored and unsurprised that Steve wasn't finished.

But Steve is suddenly wordless. He doesn't have anything to say, really. He just stares at Billy blankly. Stares at Billy's features. Dark, thick eyebrows, stubble coming in along his strong jaw - he was definitely due for a shave - long eyelashes accenting stormy blue eyes. And Billy watches him right back, but not uncomfortably. He finally smiles a little bit before laughing it off.

“Why you always starin’ at me like that, Harrington?” He says quietly, and Steve doesn’t flatter him with a response, just nods his head towards the door.

“Where do you want to go?”

Billy’s gaze lingers on him for awhile, as if he was seeing him differently. “Well,” he hikes up the waist of his pants, framing his crotch a little tighter than was necessary, “my house is the closest out of anywhere really, we could go there if you’d like. I know my dad has a gun in his closet.”

“Why?”

The blond boy shrugs. “Probably to scare off the boyfriends,”

Steve raises an eyebrow, gaze drifting.  “Lucas?” Maybe Billy's pants weren't so bad like that.

“Nope. To scare off Steve,” Billy smirks, mission clearly accomplished. 

“You’re telling me your dad has a gun to scare off  _ your _ boyfriends? What even-”

Billy rolls his eyes. “It was a fucking joke, Harrington. Can’t you just leave shit alone? Jesus Christ, you don’t have to fucking over analyze every single thing. It’s fucking annoying,” He grumbles, shoulder-checking Steve has he storms out of the front door.

Steve's jaw hangs agape, and wonders if there is a male equivalent of PMS because  _ wow _ .

 

Steve doesn’t even have a definite answer as to where they’re going, but judging by the way that they’re walking, he assumes the Hargrove residence. They’d tried to start the cars in the driveway, but they didn’t turn over. There isn’t a whole lot of good with Hawkins being so small so the little things count - everything is pretty much in walking distance. 

Billy is acting like a child, walking really far ahead of Steve despite the fact that they could be walking directly to their doom. “Are you coming still, slow-polk?” He whips his head over his shoulder crabbily, shooting Steve daggers.

“Hold the fuck on,” Steve stops and swipes his finger across some black goop coating the Cherry Road sign. “Look at all this shit, ugh, yuck,” He tries to wipe the otherworldly alien slime back onto the metal.

Billy stops walking, putting his hand on his hip like an impatient mother, and half of Steve is waiting for him to start counting to three. “Take your time, Sherlock,” he growls.

Billy eventually hangs back, and Steve catches up to him, settling in along next to him at a reasonable pace. They walk together in a mildly serene silence, managing to not bicker for a solid amount of time before Billy finally speaks.

“So, what's uh, what's Eleven got to do with all of this…” he gestures with his hammer, “shit?”

Classy.

Unsure of how to really reply, considering he only just met Eleven the fateful night at the Byers’ house, and quite frankly, he really didn’t know a whole lot about it - about her - because everyone has been so tight-lipped about it. All that he really knows is the girl that he sees when they all get together, and she’s a completely normal girl, save for being a little less talkative than your typical preteen. Maybe just a few less words. “She originally opened the gate, and now she closed it. Or um, so we thought,”

“Oh…” The blond says, throaty and face void of expression. Clearly, that wasn’t the answer he was looking for.

“...Yep,”

Billy is kicking stones as he walks, absentmindedly humming something that Steve can only assume to be some sort of rock n’ roll song. Probably Kiss. It sounds like it could be Kiss.

“What are you thinking about?” Steve asks after some delay, trying his hardest to look aloof and uncaring.

“Don't ask me that, Harrington,” Billy replies, voice stale. 

“ _ Don’t _ ask you what’s on your mind? Why not?” 

But really, he doesn’t need to ask why, he knows it’s because Billy would rather not talk about himself. Steve knows that, he gets it. But he doesn’t understand why he won’t at least open up a little bit. Open up a smidgen when it’s the two of them alone in this ridiculous place where they could say anything and no one would hear. Where they could maybe be themselves for a little bit. Where they could also get attacked by a monster and killed and never found.

After another long silence, Billy responds with what seems like an equally long sigh. “I'm just thinkin’ about how my life is completely whack now that you're in it. I never thought so much change could come from some pretty boy at my new school,”

“Pretty boy…” Steve smiles lightly after taking in his words. “You always call me that...why?”

Billy stops walking and stares at him, looking at him like he’s a complete fucking moron. And maybe he isn't completely wrong. “Why do you think?”

Answering questions with questions - Steve's least favourite response. Steve starts to reply once again, but he knows better; He ponders for a second. “Because I've got better hair than you, and you're jealous.”

Billy grins, apparently thankful for Steve avoiding the deep route. “Right, jealous of you. So jealous. I'm so jealous of that lanky body and that dweeby fashion sense,”

Steve pretends to take offense, placing a hand on his chest.. “Dweeby? I am hurt, Hargrove.”

“I'll admit you've got some wicked hair.”

“Well, I gotta have one thing going for me. Not all of us can be blessed with the general looks of a Greek God,”

Billy sticks his tongue out a little, just barely wetting his bottom lip. “Shit, you're right.” He grins, reaching a hand up to scratch the back of his head and throwing Steve a look.  _ The _ look. The look of unidentifiable origins, head tilted back, corners of his mouth perked a little, and eyes full to the brim with mischief.

Steve can’t help but laugh a little bit, flicking his eyes rapidly between the steps and Billy as they approach his house. “What are you staring at me like that for?” he says quietly, briefly aware that this question was  _ quite commonly  _ exchanged between the two of them, pausing in the familiar place with his hand on the front door handle.

Billy makes a smacking sound with his mouth and shakes his head. “‘Dunno,” is all he gives as commentary while they enter. The atmosphere inside the house is disturbing and silent; Billy traces his fingers along the shelves in the living room, collecting dirt and black shit all over his fingers.

Steve follows him at a distance as he enters his bedroom. Billy looks around, at how wickedly morphed his only very own space has become in this dark world. He’s suddenly short of breath, face twisting up into seventy different emotions at once as his head falls to his hands. “What the fuck, what the fuck,” he whispers. He’s pacing the room now, running his hands through his tangled curls. Looking up at Steve, who’s leaning against the door frame, legs crossed, Billy’s eyes are wide and pleading. “I can’t believe this is real.”

Steve shrugs the blond’s delayed reaction off, having already suffered his own crisis. “Yeah, no fucking shit,” 

“I just want to go to bed and wake up and be back in California,” Billy is quiet, almost as if he doesn't want Steve to hear him, “I wish I'd never came to Hawkins,”

And Steve watches him, pities him. Steve himself was an innocent bystander thrown into this weird ass shit - if he hadn't shown up to the Byers' house to apologise to Jonathan that night last year, he probably would never have gotten involved in any of this. If Dustin hadn’t convinced  him to help with the demodogs, maybe he’d have given Nancy those flowers and things would be different.

And sometimes he wishes it to be true. Wishes that he had never stumbled upon Jonathan and Nancy’s weird ritual, wishes he'd never had to go down in that hole with the kids, wishes he could go back in time. But he'd never have felt the love he did for Nancy Wheeler. And he'd never have gotten to know Dustin and Will and Mike and Lucas and Max and Eleven. And he'd never be stuck in the upside-down with Billy Hargrove. 

Or maybe he would. In some weird way, maybe they would have been together in a similar situation by accident. He feels like there's no other way his life could have gone - almost as if maybe it was some sort of weird fate or destiny or shit that put them together. Here. Steve Harrington and Billy Hargrove. Their paths intertwining so unlikely, their relationship so initially strained - hell,  _ always _ so strained - but always back together. And here, in this place.

Oh god, Steve just wishes it wasn't here.

Not in this godforsaken place with the godawful silence and godawful darkness.

His house, just a house, not a home, empty and big and lonely even seems like a dream to him now; A warm bed, an oven with cookies baking in it, and a can of Coke in his hand is what he yearns for. Simplicity.

And maybe he aches a little for Billy too.

He realises he's been zoning out when Billy throws a something at him. He's staring at Steve. 

“Hello? Earth to Harrington,” he waves his hand. “What the fuck are we supposed to do? We're here, but how do we get to the  _ real _ here?”

Steve looks down at the thrown object - a book, _ 1984. _ “I don't know,” he picks up the novel, paging through it, wondering how strange it must have been for people to have thought that the future would be the way it's portrayed in this novel. He sets it down on Billy’s dresser. It never stops flustering him that Billy reads. Man, give that boy less of a temper and he could be a prince charming.

“Ugh,” Billy groans, falling backward into his slimy bed.

When the other boy collides with the mattress, it moves a little for a moment and something catches Steve’s eye. He feels uncomfortable watching Billy lay there, the bed is covered in something along the lines of black sludge, only visible from the moonlight shining in through the window. He reaches down to grab the object he’d seen - a notebook - wedged in between the mattress and the box spring. Assuming it was supposed to be hidden, he holds it behind his back as Billy sits up.

“I’m gonna hit the bathroom quick, and then we can figure out what we’re going to do...shit, I hope the fucking toilet works...” he mumbles, grinding his palm against his forehead in what was most likely an attempt at ridding himself of a migraine.

The second Billy steps out of the doorway, Steve quickly gets to work. He looks around the room, as if someone was going to see and judge him for blatantly invading Billy’s privacy. Settling himself on the floor (it’s surprisingly less disgusting than the bed), he opens the tattered front cover of the notebook. 

_ I need to burn this shit,  _ written in sloppy handwriting that could only be Billy’s, smears from his left hand across the paper, Steve feels a little warmth growing in his chest. He feels a bit closer to the other boy, imagining him sitting and writing his innermost thoughts down. Almost romantic, in a way, for someone as typically brash as Billy Hargrove to keep a journal.

Steve’s heart drops when he turns the page, a drawing of a woman taking up the entire left page, her hand extended across the spiral to the other, holding a little flower in it. He notes scribbles surrounding the artwork, little annotations describing how much Billy misses his mother. And just when he thought he could not possibly be any more surprised, he sees what occupies the next page.

Brown eyes blow up wide as he stares at a sketch of himself, almost ghostly. Pencil-Steve is expressionless, walking away from pencil-Billy behind him and  _ boy _ does pencil-Billy look upset. Steve feels himself choking on air as he reads the aggressive text on the opposite page.

_ I did it again. I ruined everything good that I had going. I wrecked it, I fucking destroyed it. I dropped a fuckin’ atom bomb on the only good thing in my life. And God, I am hurting so fuckin’ bad. I can’t believe how much of a pussy I am. Fuck. I sat there fuckin’ crying and shit. Jesus Christ. You’d be ashamed of me, ma. I’ve been a bad dude. I’ve treated people so shitty and I just want to be better. For you, yanno? _

_ I’m lying again. I keep doing that. ‘N I’m sorry. I love you and I miss you and shit. But I lied. I wanna get better for you, yeah, but I wanna get better for everyone else too. Especially Harrington. But he’s gone now. Maybe I should...no, I’m stupid. I don’t know why I’m even writing anything here. I’m not a little kid. _

Air ceases to enter Steve’s lungs as he continues to flip through Billy’s journal, pausing once again on a drawing of he and Billy, sitting somewhere together, with pencil-Steve’s hand on pencil-Billy’s cheek and their foreheads together. He feels his face scrunch up into something terribly hideous, pressure building up behind his eyes. He drags his finger across the lines on the paper where the pencil had pressed down.

_ Mom, I miss him. Harrington, I mean. Again. I gotta tell you, but you can’t judge me, alright? _

Steve swallows hard, debating on closing the notebook and pretending that he’d never seen it, but his fingers don't work anymore. Or maybe he just isn't letting them work.

_ He’s a boy. Like, it’s weird, yanno? I don’t want you to be sad up there in heaven that your son’s into another boy. I know Neil is upset. I wish he would leave me alone, honestly, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t know anything about Harrington. Steve, is his name, actually. But he says he doesn’t really like it when I call him that. He’s so good, ma. He’s the best friend I ever had, and I’ve tossed it in the trash. I even listened to the Bee Gees for him. And you know how I feel about disco shit.  _

_ I kissed him. A few times. I kissed a boy, isn’t that wild? I don’t know how or why. I just feel some kinda way around him. I’ve never felt like it before. How I feel with him. I thought I was just happy to have a friend, but what kind of friend makes your heart flutter the way that it does when I see him? God, his smile is so amazing. And I love to hear him laugh. And he’s so, I don’t know, delicate or some shit. I ain’t ever had a girl who’d just hold my hand like Harrington does. _

_ Is that how you felt when you and Neil were close? I still don’t get it. Maybe it’s so new to me and that’s why I’m scared. Or maybe I’m scared of the way everyone’ll react. Folks don’t like people like me around here. Fags, I mean. But Harrington, ma, he says he likes me. He says he feels all weird about me too, but I shot him down and I’ll hate myself forever for doing it. I just wish that I could take it all back and I wish I could just wrap my fuckin’ arms around the bitch and just hug him and tell him that _

 

The silence is almost becoming deafening when a rustling comes from outside. Steve quickly puts the notebook back where he’d found it for fear of it being somewhere else in the real world. He’s unsure of how that shit works. He can’t quite feel his toes, entire body shaken from what he’d read.

Billy.

He needs to talk to Billy.

He runs around the corner, smacking into the other boy. “What’s your problem? What are you doing?” Billy looks shocked, and Steve realises that he’s probably wearing his heart on his sleeve. 

“Oh god, Billy, I-”

“The fuck was that?” Billy lifts his head, peering his head into the bedroom, he looks first out the window and then at Steve, who shrugs in response. He’s mildly disappointed in the disruption, but now isn’t the time to have this conversation anyhow.

Another noise sounds, and the two scramble into Billy’s room to grab their respective weapons. Billy hasn’t had time to locate Neil’s gun, but he’ll make due.

“I don't know,” Steve grips his bat tightly, responding late.

The quiet is yet again broken abruptly as something breaks the front door down, skidding around the living room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I definitely almost cut this whole bit out of the story. It seems so forced, friends, I'm sorry. But I felt it was important. 
> 
> Another thing, i'm so sorry, guys, for how late I've been. I've had this written for months but I've had the world's worst past three months. I've been suffering nonstop with family deaths and tragedy. I'm not trying to be whiny, lmao, thanks so much for sticking by me.
> 
> Side note, I'm posting this from my phone, so I hope that it posts right. Yikes.


	18. Chapter 18

Billy hustles across the room, grabbing a can of hairspray from his dresser and pulling out his lighter.

“Are you insane!?” Steve whisper-shouts, cupping his hand over the lighter. “This is your house, remember?”

“Not here, it ain't,”

And then Steve sees it - what Dustin called a demodog, those things he'd seen as they torched the monster - as it passes by Billy's bedroom door. He quickly turns to the other. “Outside first, then fire.”

Billy's expression is completely blank. “What was that!?” He says a little too loudly. Steve grabs his hand and pulls him outside. Billy runs clumsily, nearly tripping over himself going down the steps.

Steve essentially throws Billy, pushing him away before turning around and holding up the bat, twirling it with the courage of a fool. But it’s alright, he’s done this before. He was there in the junkyard. He can do it again.

The demodog launches itself from the front door, soars through the air and lands on the ground in front of them, shrieking. 

“What the fuck!” Billy scrambles to his feet, brandishing his makeshift flamethrower.

The creature circles menacingly before lunging at Billy. He can't attack back at close range for risk of burning himself or Steve, but at least it was an option if shit hit the fan. He kicks it and Steve swats it with the bat. It leaps backward, stalking around them for a moment, assessing. 

Just then, Steve is assaulted from behind by a second and third assailant, knocking him down face first. The bat falls from his grasp, teetering oddly, suspended on the different heighted nails. Billy reacts instantly, kicking the second demodog off of Steve's back and lighting up the spray, coating one of the enemies. It flails around, trying to extinguish the flames but is unsuccessful. He picks up Steve's nail bat and knocks another one out of the air as it flies toward him, finishing it off with a stomp to the head. 

“I'm just waiting for a real challenge!” He shouts, and the final demodog sprints toward him, knocking the bat from his hand. It lands on the ground with a clunk. Billy cracks his knuckles. “Alright, bitch, bring it.” 

It leaps at him, and he blocks its attack with a knee. He grabs it and holds it down, punching it a few times. He steadies himself as it escapes his hold, chomping down on his arm. He yelps out in pain, but quickly falls to his side, pressing his weight down on the beast. Billy stands with urgency, landing a foot on it and crushing its skull with his heel. 

He turns to see Steve just staring at him blankly. “Shit.”

He smiles at Billy, in awe, but it's short lived when yet another demodog sails into him, biting into first his arm and then chest area. The monster is ravenous, biting Steve's neck before Billy can bash it off with the bat, careful to avoid hitting the other boy. He punts the demodog’s lifeless body off, hitting it once more for good measure before sinking to his knees and gathering Steve in his arms.

His head hangs limp, and blood is draining quickly from his wounds. “Shit, shit, Harrington, what the fuck do I do?! I'm not a nurse! I mean, I'd be a hot nurse but-”

Steve doesn't reply to him, head rolling backwards, exposing a gaping wound along his throat.

“O-oh my god,” Billy is frantic, taking his jacket off and holding it up against Steve, pressure firm. He cups Steve's head in his hand, holding it up in a feeble attempt to stop him from bleeding out.

Billy lays Steve down, taking off his shirt and tying it around his arm, not knowing what the hell he's doing and trying to mimic the professionals he's seen on the television. “Shit, fuck, Harrington, you can't leave me like this okay?” he taps Steve's cheek lightly. “Look, look, your cheek is bruised from where I slapped you. You gotta get me back for that, you know.  You can't just…”

Hot tears begin to swell up in Billy's eyes. He's so overwhelmed, so lost, so unsure as the blood from Steve's throat soaks through his favourite jacket. He carries the brunette back into his house and sets him gingerly on the couch. “Come on, Steve, who the fuck is gonna drive those kids around if not you? It sure as shit ain't gonna be me,” He runs a hand along Steve's forehead. He opens his mouth, hesitating. “...and what about me?” He rotates the jacket so the clean side is against his wounds. “What am I supposed to do if you're gone? You're my only source of entertainment in this place.”

Billy looks around in a panic, running to the kitchen and grabbing all of the dish towels from the drawer. Steve looks so vulnerable, so pale, even in the darkness of the house.

Soon, light is breaking, not a usual type of light, not clouds parted with sunlight, but a solid gray  sky illuminated only slightly. And it makes Billy's stomach turn even more so, seeing all of Steve's blood in vibrant colors against this monochrome world. 

Shrieks and howls surround the house, distant, but still very real. Billy feels himself breaking into a sweat. He has no idea how to possibly get them out of this situation.

The sounds grow nearer, and Billy sits defeated on the floor next to the couch, with Steve lying unconscious and bleeding out. He places a hand against Steve's hair, then his cheek, his thumb finds his lips. “Don't you fucking do this to me, Harrington. I'm gonna die sitting here by your side.” Steve is feeling less warm by the second. “I was really hoping to get murdered by a serial killer or something cool, you know? To have it be a mystery or something.”

The only sounds coming from Steve are groans, half-conscious mumbles and the occasional cough followed by a disgusting gurgling noise. Billy can’t stand it, listening to Steve in pain. He cups his hands around his ears, muffling the moans for approximately three seconds before he feels too guilty.

“God damn it, Steve, this sucks. I just don’t know what to do, I...I can’t save you, I can’t-”

What sounds like footsteps approaches, and Billy attempts to peer over the couch, fearful.

Standing in the doorway is Eleven. She reaches out her hand. “Come.”

Billy can't believe his eyes. “Come!? Where!? Steve is hurt!” He envelopes Steve's hand in his own, skimming across his soft skin.

She motions for Billy to stand. “I'll get Steve out. But you need to come first,”

Billy feels his jaw drop open a little bit. “Leave him? N-no way, girl, no way, I'm not gonna just leave him,”

Eleven face falls. “Trust me.”

Billy hesitates, eyes set on Steve, bleeding and pale.

“Friends don't lie. I will get you out. I will get Steve out.”

He looks toward Steve, so exposed on the couch. Would it really be worth it to stay here with Steve and risk all of their lives? 

But what if he doesn't make it?

What if he  _ could _ have made it?

What if Steve dies?

What if Steve dies  _ alone? _

...But what if this is the only way to save them all?

Billy's eyes dart between the boy on the couch and the mystical girl holding her arm out to him, offering him an escape.

Should he trust her?

Should he risk it?

“Hnngg….promise me he'll be okay, and I'll go.”

“I promise! Now come!” She takes Billy by the calloused hand, forcing him to run with her.

 

And they run. They run far, and fast. The light starts to get blocked out, darkness swimming across the sky. And Billy makes the mistake of turning, looking back to see the source of the sudden overcast.

When he turns, he feels weak. Chills shoot through his entire body as he sees almost the exact image from Will Byers’ drawing, a giant shadow creature looming in the horizon.

“W-what the hell is that!?” he shrieks, knees beginning to buckle.

“No time!” Eleven shouts, practically ignoring doom on the horizon behind them.

“How much farther!?” Billy pants, exhausted both mentally and physically. No amount of weight training and exercise can truly prepare you for what he's experienced today. 

“Almost there!”

A wave of relief spreads throughout Billy's body when he realises Eleven is just taking him back to the Byers’ house. They're sprinting up the driveway, and Billy almost falls over the uneven ground.

The girl reaches her hand out near the porch, appearing to be focusing hard on nothing, when a little rip appears in midair. Billy's jaw drops as she literally tears it open another reality. Straight up rips open the air in front of him; he can see his world through the tear - colorful and vibrant. 

He turns to her, face overwrought. “And Steve?”

“I will be back. Soon.”

“I...what?”

“Bye, Billy. Trust me.” She reaches out and hugs him, and he hesitates, watching a young little girl run back into the face of danger as the entire sky lights up with the silhouette of evil.

 

Billy sticks his hand through the portal, and it's sticky and sloppy. Immediately, Joyce Byers runs into the living room to see a hand entering their world through her wall.

She screams, and Jonathan comes running out frantically with the same hammer Billy had taken in the upside-down, looking completely unthreatening. “Oh my god!” He yells, and before Billy knows it, Joyce is wrapping her arms around his waist. She pulls away, looking at him. He's shirtless and covered with ooze from the portal and also Steve's blood, and she's clearly shaken by the sight if it.

“You're okay! Oh my god!” She shakes off her hands subtly, not even caring that Billy is covered with weird slime.

“Steve…got hurt. Eleven...she's going to get him and bring him home,” Joyce and Jonathan exchange looks, and both let out an obvious sigh of relief.

“Thank god. How are you, sweetie? Are you weak? Cold? Do you want a blanket?” She looks at Billy's forearm. “Some bandages? ...A bath?”

Billy arches an eyebrow, feeling woozy. “Actually, I think a bath would be the most amazing thing ever right now,”

 

Billy runs the water, staring blankly at the wall. He reaches down to the faucet, feeling the warmth of the water and feeling so... _ alive _ .

A floorboard’s creak alerts him to another’s presence. He's startled to realise Joyce is standing in the still open doorway. “I'm sorry, I just...I wanted to make sure the water was...hot enough,” she brushes past him cautiously, sticking her hand under the water. She jerks it away immediately. “Ouch, that's pretty hot,” she laughs mildly, smiling strangely relieved smile.

“Yeah...I'm uh, really feeling like I need a full cleanse.”

He wonders what her concern was, coming over to feel his water, but ignores it. He closes the door and undresses, looking at himself in the mirror. He runs his hands through his hair, tangled and snarly. And he's never felt so worn. He runs a hand along the dried blood across his chest, Steve Harrington's blood, and nausea overcomes him.

Sinking down into the water, Billy closes his eyes in slight pain as he submerges himself in the steaming water. It's extremely hot, to the point where it's clearly irritating his skin, but he doesn't even care. He has to wash that disgusting place, those disgusting things from himself. Gripping his chest, he suddenly feels a strange pang of culpability, washing away Steve’s blood from his body. As if it was all he had left of him.

Billy can hardly relax, not knowing what's become of Steve or Eleven, so he doesn't indulge in the bath. He washes his hair and body and gets out, wrapping himself in a towel, his face falling into his hands. He lets out a low sob, so worried and so sick and so anxious. So guilty. 

After collecting himself just enough, he pokes his head out of the door. “Hey, uh, Ms. Byers?”

Joyce gets up from the couch and rushes over to the bathroom with a ridiculous sense of urgency. “Joyce is fine, honey, do you need something?”

Billy feels extremely awkward. “Do you think you could uh, maybe ask Jonathan if I could borrow some clothes? My jeans are kinda…”

Joyce's gaze lingers on Billy’s wet torso for a moment, but not in an inappropriate manner, just as if she doesn't comprehend the question at that moment. “Oh, of course!” she quickly jogs down the hallway, returning with a Beatles tee shirt and some striped pajama pants.

Billy grabs them with a nod. “Thank you,” he says and abruptly closes the door, letting out a breath. “Fuckin’ weird,” he grumbles.

Thankfully, Jonathan is a little bigger than Steve, so he fits at least a tiny bit better into his clothes, though he still isn't comfortable.

He stands in the bathroom for a while, just standing, idling, thinking. He doesn't want to go home, see Neil. See Susan. He doesn't know what to do. Eventually, he opens the door as quietly as possible, hoping to avoid all contact with the family. As he leaves the door frame, he hears a little voice behind him.

“Hi, Billy.”

Billy turns around to see Will Byers standing at the end of the hallway, arms at his side and hair sort of tousled. “Hey,” Billy says, on edge.

Will suddenly looks like he's about to cry. “I'm sorry for yelling at you,” he wipes his little nose.

Billy immediately wishes he could be teleported far away from here. He’s never really had to deal with kids much besides his step-brat, and dealing with a flustered kid is another story.  And truthfully, Will yelling at him about the drawings was the least of his concerns. He hadn't even thought about it really. It was a reasonable response. “It’s okay, kid, really, it is. Don't worry.” 

The younger boy turns and runs into his room, assumably crying, closes the door. Billy feels bad, but he really can't do much except for tell him it's okay. And it is okay. After having seeing that...thing...he understands why Will reacted the way he did. 

Billy resumes his advance to the front door. When he rounds the corner, he spots Joyce standing right in front of it, directly in his path.

Shit.

“I hope you don't think you're going to be leaving,” 

He had survived death by otherworldly monster, so perhaps death by cultists was the more appropriate answer.

“I...thank you, Joyce, but I should really get home,”

Joyce shakes her head slowly. “I'm sure you saw a lot of things in that place, and I'm so sorry for you, but you have to understand something. There are people who know about that awful world and they're going to come after you,”

Billy can't help but feel like he's probably making a weird face. “They're going to come after me!? Who?”

Joyce puts her hands on his thick arms and shifts her weight, biting her lip a little. “They're probably just going to swear you to confidentiality. Or they might kill you. I don't know.”

Billy stares at the woman, mouth agape. “W-what??” She  _ sure _ had a way with words, this one. She was clearly joking, and usually Billy would appreciate it, but he feels shaken to the core after everything he’s been through today.

Joyce smiles. “Anyway, I think it's best if you just stay the night here since Steve is still missing. I can grab some sheets for the couch,”

She releases Billy, and he just hangs there for a moment. She scurries along, getting fresh sheets and a blanket. Joyce makes him a hot chocolate and looks surprised to see that Billy is still standing in the exact spot she'd left him.

“Did you say Steve is still missing?” he whispers, nose crinkling a little.

“Yeah, well you said Eleven finally found you guys, right?” She hands him the drink.

Billy rolls his shoulders, grabbing the mug handle. “It's only been a few hours, it's just kind of weird that you'd say -”

Joyce raises an eyebrow at him, lips parting slightly in questioning. “It's been four days, Billy,”

He nearly chokes on his hot chocolate. “ _ Four days?!” _

She nods, confusion in her eyes. “Yes,”

“The only time that passed while I was there was a single night. A  _ single night! _ The night that we got there. Day was breaking when El found us,” Maybe it wasn't day breaking at all. He really doesn't know anything about it, shivering at the memory of the giant alien thing across the sky. Ears suddenly ringing, he turns his attention to the television, listening to them discussing the closure of Hawkins Lab and then sure shit, two local boys missing.

“Still no word on the location of Steven Harrington, 18, and William Hargrove, 17, of Hawkins. Police initially wondered if their disappearances had anything to do with Hawkins Laboratory despite the closure, but since the release of the Scandal Tapes involving the death of Barbara Holland, the United States Department of Energy has …”

Billy suddenly feels like he's seeing stars. Days? They've been gone for  _ days _ ? Steve's parents could think that his son is dead - shit, he very well could be - and Neil..Neil probably thinks that he's gone too.

Billy smirks, a sick sense of satisfaction appearing. Neil. At least there's some form of Justice in this world. Neil isn't even worried, guaranteed.

His focus returning to the television, he sees Chief Hopper with a microphone in his face, expression completely serious. “We're gonna find these boys and bring them home,” he states very plainly, very confidently. 

Billy, quite frankly, has no words. He looks at Joyce, who clearly doesn't either. He frowns, feeling like a pansy, on the verge of tears. Joyce, being motherly as hell as usual, reaches out for him and envelopes him in a hug. Tense at first, Billy eventually softens in her arms before letting out a sigh.

“Get some rest, sweetie. He'll come home.” Joyce has those eyes, eyes like his own mother had, so warm and full of hope and love. And Billy believes her. “Steve will come home. I can tell you boys care for each other.” And Billy ignores her then, ignores those fucking words she’d just said to him, his tongue suddenly tasting sour.

Care.

_ I don’t care. _

_ No, I do care. _

_ Fuck. _

_ I hate this. _

 

The two of them sit up and awake for awhile yet, Joyce putting on an old Western movie. And Billy loves Westerns, John Wayne and Clint Eastwood starring in epic tales of origin and dreams of the American Heartland. Billy would be a liar if he said he was paying any attention to it at all, though, his thoughts wandering literally everywhere else.

To Eleven, to Steve, to Neil. To Max.

He realises he's starting to drift off into a slumber, and Joyce notices it too, pausing the VCR. “Okay, it's time for you to go to bed, sleepyhead.” She ruffles Billy's long hair, and he is completely in shock of how much of a mom she is. She barely knew him, met him for the first time ever that night - er, four days ago - and here she was, treating him like another one of her sons. Like she treated Will and Jonathan.

“Shit, if you say so, ma'am.” Billy falls down sideways on the pillow immediately, smiling big at Joyce before she turns off the lights in the living room.

The second she leaves the room, the weight of the world starts to crash down on Billy. The pressure is slamming against his head harder and harder, making the pillow seem as hard as a rock, his brain throbbing against his skull. Billy lays there, suffering  silently on the Byers’ couch, so confused about everything. He can't believe he's sleeping in this house, this foreign place, and that Steve is fighting for his life in the scary other world.

And Billy can't believe he left him there, in that place. 

He hates himself for it.

And Steve probably would hate him too.

 

Five days pass, and Billy grows restless at the Byers’. He's pretty fond of Joyce by this time, he's been at their house solidly, but anyone would get stir crazy. Right?

He plays Jonathan's guitar a lot, reads his books. He starts to keep a new journal and takes a lot of naps. He'd be going insane at his own house, cooped up for two days straight. But to be cooped up at someone else's house is just plain bizarre. 

He and Will have played every board game and every card game in that damn house, and Billy is teaching him how to shade realistically in drawings and Will in turn is teaching him some pretty damn good color theory for a fucking kid.

Billy is so filled with unbelievable anxiety that he feels like it's starting to irritate the family. Will is the most affected by it, and Billy can tell he wants to talk, or maybe ask questions, but he doesn't want to poke or prod him or throw unnecessary information at the boy in case it triggers him.

The sixth day drags by slowly, threatening to turn the waiting period into a whole week. Eventually Jonathan and Will get home, followed by Joyce after an hour. Dinner time rolls around. Joyce makes a macaroni casserole with tuna, and Billy is weirded out by the thought of someone cooking meals  _ every  _ night. He's had more home cooked suppers here in the time he's been staying here than he's had in the past three years of his life and even though he wants his life to be normal, he doesn't want to leave. He's so cozy.

The conversation at the table is pretty typical of the past few days, Joyce being a mom and asking all the same questions about the school days, asking about assignments and the party and the like. And she'll notice Billy sitting in silence, playing with his food, stabbing it repeatedly with his fork or swirling it about. And he appreciates that she cares, and tries to include him, but he still isn't her son, still isn't a part of this family and ultimately feels like a burden. 

And then the doorbell rings. 

Winter in Hawkins is dark, so Billy can't see outside when he parts the curtains. Joyce answers the door. Before she can say a single word, Hopper barges in, nearly knocking her backwards.

“We got him.”

Billy feels his heart drop, and Hopper approaches, handing him the ugliest hat he's ever seen - a black trucker hat with pink stars on it.

“Can you get all of your hair up in that?” The chief's eyes scan him. 

“I uh, I can try. But just for the record, I would never put that on my head-”

Joyce hands him the hair tie from her wrist. “Here, I'll help you,”

Billy's hair is pretty thin, only perhaps looking like he has a lot of it because of its curls, and his head is sensitive so when Joyce is pulling all of his strands into this ridiculous ponytail, he's in agony and he probably looks it too.

Billy feels ridiculous with his hair in a sloppy bun on the top of his head, layers spilling out all over from underneath the hat but he doesn't care because  _ Steve. _

“Put on glasses too, just in case. Can't have anyone spot a missing kid with us before we get our stories straight,” Hopper says matter-of-factly and gestures toward the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted this on my phone again, sorry if its sloppy/formatted weird!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! It's been awhile and I am *so* sorry for it! I have this entire fic written, and I have no excuse as to not posting. Please bear with me, as I will be trying to get the rest posted soon. I apologise for this chapter being short and unedited but I'm going to put a bit more effort into sprucing up the next few. Thank you to everyone who has continued to ask for updates and whoever reads this after my long absence.   
> Also, forgive any strange punctuation, spelling errors or random words as I've been posting this on my phone and my autocorrect is terrible even when copying and pasting hahah.  
> Thanks again, love Reylinne. 💖

The drive to the cabin feels like it takes a decade, nerves riding high and muscles tense. Billy is the first one out of the car as they pull up the bumpy road, practically jumping out of the vehicle while it's still in motion.. He can hear Jonathan asking what all the rush is behind him, and normally he'd get pissed at his stupidity and make a remark but he is so numb right now that he can't be bothered.

Billy almost trips himself leaping up to the porch, nearly knocking the door off of the hinges with the intense force he opens it with. He doesn't even care that he's tearing up like a little bitch when he sees Eleven and Steve on the couch because they're alive and they're okay and they're  _ alive and they're okay. _

“Oh my god,” he runs to them, grabbing Eleven's hands in his own. And for maybe the first time in his life, Billy embraces someone first. He hugs her and thanks her a million times.

She smiles at him. “Hair gone,”

He stares at her quizzically before remembering that his hair is hidden under the hat. He laughs and takes it down, the girl's fingers detangling his dirty blond curls before turning his attention to Steve. 

Steve. Bruises and cuts, but breathing. He looks like he's missing a lot of color and his hair is  limp and he looks pretty weak but he's  _ whole _ . And he's home. Billy cups Steve's chilly face, and is startled by a hand on his shoulder.

“His parents are gone for the weekend,” Hopper says calmly. “I'm thinking maybe home is a good place for him to be right now.”

Billy's mouth starts to open, but he doesn't know what to say. Steve's parents went out of town on business while their son is missing? How cruel could they be? He's upset, but he's sure Steve is even more upset. And worse, he isn't surprised. 

“I can bring you guys there, but you can't leave his house, okay? Not until I come back and then we'll figure out what the story is.”

“What if they find us?”

“Who?”

“The people who are responsible for the...shit, the uh... upside down,”

Hopper arches an eyebrow and sighs. “Well, supposedly the Lab is closed, so I'm hoping they won't have ears on the inside. You should be okay. I'm assuming they don't know about all of this, because I think otherwise they would have tried to produce a body or a cover-up.” the Chief adjusts his hat and folds his arms.

Billy doesn't know how to reply to that, so he just nods.  Might as well just accept the strange and completely unreal situation. “Does this mean I have to put the damn hat back on?”

 

Hopper pulls into the Harringtons’ driveway and has Eleven open the door from the truck so they can rush Steve inside without being seen.

Eleven gives Billy one more hug before they depart, Hopper giving him a nod. “I'll be in touch. Call me if you need anything. And when I say anything, I mean  _ anything. _ ”

Billy responds with an awkward two-finger salute. He immediately draws all the blinds, making sure no one can see him inside before letting his hair down. He's freezing and shivering a little from the cold and a little from nerves and maybe a lot from excitement. 

He peeps his head around the corner and Steve is still unconscious on the couch. Billy grabs the journal he’d started at the Byers’ house, taking a seat on the floor next to the sofa, scooting all the way so his back is up against the material of the couch. He leans his head back a little, staring at Steve a bit before opening the flimsy paper cover of his ten cent notebook. 

_ Where do I begin? _

The writing on the page is sloppy and eager. Eager for what, he hadn't had a fucking clue. Eager for Steve to wake up, eager to go back to normal, eager to leave the Byers’. At least one of those wishes had become true.

He skims over today's entry, filled with too much sentiment and nauseating words of gratitude and hope that he would never speak aloud.

He decides to pop some popcorn and put on  _ The French Connection. _ Billy is a sucker for older movies, so he’s pretty pumped to find out Mr. Harrington is also an enthusiast. He finishes the popcorn off easily, and about halfway through the movie he sees Steve stirring. 

Practically throwing the empty popcorn bowl across the room, he runs over to the couch that Steve is on and kneels next to him. “Steve? Hi,” He definitely sounds like a lost puppy, crouching alongside him, looking the part as well.

Steve’s brown eyes flutter open slowly, and Billy has never been more glad to see anything in his life. He smiles broadly as Steve struggles to sit up but it fades fast. The other boy is clutching at his neck. He groans in pain, and Billy quickly reaches up and knocks his hand away.

“Hey, don’t touch that, it’s gonna hurt, you’re injured,”

Steve just stares at him for a moment, eyes empty. “The demodogs,” he whispers. “You saved me, didn’t you?”

Billy’s face falls. “I tried, buddy,”

Steve’s hand reaches out to Billy’s forehead, tracing his thumb along a cut. “You did though, didn't you?” Their eyes lock, blue on brown, both so heavy with emotion. “I can’t believe you managed to be a badass despite being so lost.”

Billy chuckles a little bit. “I’ll definitely admit that I was a little lost. I was so confused - I’m  _ still  _ so confused! Shit, Harrington…” He looks down at the floor. “But let me tell you something.”

Steve coughs a little, but never takes his eyes off of Billy, who breaks eye contact and hesitates for a moment. He opens his mouth to speak multiple times but can't seem to get the words out.  Billy draws circles with his finger along the arm of the couch, idling nervously.

“I’m so damn glad you’re okay,” He returns Steve’s gaze. “I’ve never been so worried in my life.”

Steve’s bottom lip quivers. “Aw, Billy, you’re gonna make me cry.”

“God, I didn’t ask for this. This is why I don’t have friends,” Billy laughs. He grabs the empty bowl he’d head launched a few moments earlier. “Want some popcorn? I can make some more,”

Laughing, Steve grabs a tiny kernel that has clung to the bottom of the bowl. “Mmm, my favourite,” it sounds like his tooth is breaking when he bites into it and Billy cackles.

The two sit in a collective pause, just content for a while before Steve finally speaks up, breaking the silence.

“I...actually think I’m gonna go to bed, if that’s okay,” Steve says finally. “Can you maybe help me...up to my room?”

Billy falters. “Yeah, absolutely,” he stands and slings an arm around Steve’s waist. Steve reaches up around Billy’s strong shoulders, groaning a little bit upon the initial movement. Getting up the stairs proves to be a pretty big challenge, and Steve half wants to just tell him to forget it but he also  _ really _ wants his bed. 

The route to the room at the end of the hall is full of peril as the two boys nearly trip and crash multiple times, always ending with a small laugh. When they finally arrive in Steve’s room, Billy is immediately offended yet again by his hideous wallpaper. “That’s really ugly, you know it, Harrington? Who decorated this, your geometry teacher?”

“I don’t know, maybe,” he rubs his eyes.

“What?” Billy laughs. 

“What? Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m just really tired,” Steve is slurring his words, clearly exhausted. He’d only been awake for like half an hour but it must have felt like eons to him.

“It’s okay, I’m tired too,” Billy mumbles stupidly as he places Steve on his bed. More like assists him, really.  He grabs him a change of clothes and sets them on the brunette's lap. He can't keep his eyes off of Steve's wounds, most notably the gash across his throat that could have easily been the end of his life. He wonders how the wound has been healed. Actually, healed is definitely the wrong word - temporarily fixed. Fixed in an unknown way. It looks like it had been cauterized somehow, sloppily mended together. Looks like it's already started to scar, and the scar would not be pretty.

“I think I can manage this at least, thanks.”

“Alright, goodnight Harrington. I’ll be down the hall.” He steps back and gives an awkward wave. “If you need anything…”

“Goodnight, Billy. And thank you again,”

Billy shrugs him off and grimaces, leaving the room and hating himself for being weird. Hates himself for acting so _ not himself _ around Steve. He's such a fool.

 

When Billy arrives in the guest room, he gets a flashback to the night that Steve found out about Neil. The night Steve had came for him, brought him to this house. This mansion. He feels strange and unwelcome in the room, so dark and lonely compared to the Byers’ bustling home with three other people and bright colors and the hum of the refrigerator and the warmth from the heating vent right behind the couch where he'd slept.

His head hits the pillow like a bowling ball cracking full force against pins in an alley and he hears a noise down the hall, a rustling of sorts. 

“Hey, uh, Billy?” from across the hall calls a voice, Steve's voice. Obviously.

“Do you need something? Are you okay?” Billy half sits up, tuning his  hearing.

Hesitation. “Can you...come in here please?”

Billy responds immediately, overly willing to assist the other boy in his time of need. He stumbles through the dark in a hurry even in the straight hallway. “Are you okay!?” He calls out a little too urgently, and when he enters the room, he sees Steve has tears in his eyes and his arms wrapped around his chest.

And he refuses to look Billy in the eyes. “I’m...scared of the dark…I think…” his words are soft and whispy.

Billy’s mouth is agape and he flounders a bit, unsure of what to say. “Oh...um, okay,” he turns on the lamp next to Steve’s bed, pursing his lips before slowly starting to head back to the door. “Couldn't you have just done that yours-”

“Wait,” Steve says, still looking anywhere but at Billy. “Can you just stay in here please?” The sentence leaves Steve's mouth at 100 mph, and if Billy weren't already hoping Steve would say that, he probably wouldn't have understood the jargled mess that came from the other boy's lips.

Billy wrings his hands anxiously. “Uh, what is this, some cheesy teen movie?” Despite his heart fluttering, having hoped Steve would ask, he looks around frantically for a blanket for the floor. “I must admit, I was kind of hoping for a nice bed, but whatever helps you sleep at night, pretty boy,”

Steve isn’t amused at all by his comment. Or at least he doesn’t look like it whatsoever. He puts a hand against his forehead. “Just get over here, you dipshit,”

Billy rolls his eyes and mimics Steve’s voice. “Just get over here, you dipshit,”

Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, Billy bites his lip. Steve turns and lays back, pulling the covers up to his chin. “Did you...want me to like…”

“I don’t care,” Steve murmurs, clearly frustrated. Maybe in pain, as well. “Whatever,”

Billy decides his death will not be from otherworldly monsters or a weird cult but instead probably be at the hands of Steve Harrington. He scoots to the other side of the bed and slowly pulls the covers back. “Can I...uh…”

“Just get under the fucking blanket, you’re starting to piss me off,”

“Oh, how the roles are reversed, huh?” Billy grumbles. He slides under the covers and lays as close as possible to the edge of the bed. He definitely feels like he might fall over the side, but that's a welcome fate compared to accidentally brushing up against Steve's foot or something.

“Thank you,” Steve says calmly, quietly.

“This is weird as hell, and it’s all your fault,” Billy fires, but Steve is already drifting half out of consciousness. 

Steve Harrington snores. A little, not a lot, but he definitely snores. And Billy is definitely going to give him shit for it.

When he hears the first little snortle come out of Steve, he rolls over and smiles at him. God, if sleeping on the Byers’ couch was weird and unbelievable, sleeping in a bed next to Steve Harrington while sober is the most bizarre thing in the entire world. He watches Steve as he falls into rhythmic breathing for at least five minutes before he realises how damn tired he is as well. 

He slides back over as far to the edge as he can and faces the window. Billy's eyes are drooping, and all he can picture is how Steve looked when he left him to go with Eleven back in the upside-down. But it's okay now, Steve is okay now. He inhales deeply, falling into a deep sleep in no time.


	20. Chapter 20

In the morning, Billy wakes up alone in the bed. He shoots up instantly, forgetting for a split second where he was. He quickly recognizes Harrington's terrible wallpaper and sighs. Smoothing his wrinkly pants, he stalks quietly down the stairs. Peering around the corner, he sees Steve in the kitchen, mixing something in a bowl with blueberries.

Billy grins, remembering the day they had gone swimming and eaten pancakes.

Steve's eyes shoot upwards at him then. “Good morning sleepyhead,” he says, voice quiet even though there is no one else home.

“You're um, up and at em’ for being a wounded soldier, huh?” Billy says, arching an eyebrow. He takes a seat at the counter and pops a blueberry in his mouth. Nostalgia.

“I wanted to surprise you. I expected you to sleep for at least another half hour or so,”

Billy looks at the clock on the wall. 8:32. Wow, he usually wasn't awake until past ten at least, but they did go to bed pretty early last night. He watches Steve. Looks like he'd found and helped himself to fresh bandages somewhere in this big empty house, changed them by himself. Billy is impressed, and also thankful that he didn't have have to help the other boy. Not necessarily because he's squeamish, but because he can't stand the thought of Steve writhing in pain. And maybe he's a little squeamish. 

“Aw, how nice of you,” Billy says sarcastically and stands up, roaming into the living room while Steve cooks. “Oh man, your parents have a sick stereo system in here. How have I not seen this yet?”

Rummaging through countless albums ranging from 40’s music to modern, Billy sets his eyes on a goofy one: The Partridge Family. Goofy. But also a favourite of his. Not that anyone knows that.

“You ready to rock the fuck out, Harrington?!” Billy hollers, and he can hear Steve laugh from the other room.

“I'm not so sure that my dad has anything that's rock worthy in there, but sure, try me,”

Billy grins mischievously as the tune to “Come on Get Happy” starts playing, and he slides into the kitchen in his socks not unlike Joel Goodsen in  _ Risky Business _ . “Hello world, hear the song that we're singin’!” He does a little dance while Steve flips the pancakes. 

Steve throws him an unamused glare, but Billy can tell that he's trying to hide a smile. “Wow,”  Billy throws his arms up and jumps around, singing along to the silly music.

_ A whole lotta lovin’ is what we'll be bringin’ _

_ We'll make you happy _

Billy shakes his butt a little bit as he opens the fridge, grabbing the carton of orange juice.

Steve laughs out loud now. “Really? You like this? I'd never peg you as a Partridge Family kinda guy.”

_ Something always happens whenever we're together _

_ We get a happy feelin’ when we're singin’ a song _

“Oh please, Harrington. Clearly you don't know me at all. I'm not all Metallica and Iron Maiden. I can get down to everything!”

Steve nearly burns the pancakes, paying Billy too much mind. He flips a couple on to a plate and serves it to the other boy, who's still singing into a fork as the song comes to a close.

“Pancakes as black as my soul,” Billy twirls his fingers at Steve, who rolls his eyes. 

“I can take those if you want,” Steve's eyes dart from the pancakes, up to the blond boy, back to the stove.

“Fuck you, Harrington, I'm starving.” Steve snorts, pouring more mix onto the griddle. The next song plays and Billy shovels a couple forkfuls of pancakes in his mouth. “I know this one too!!” He shouts through a full mouth.

_ I'm sleeping, and right in the middle of a good dream _

_ Like all at once I wake up, from something that keeps knocking at my brain _

Billy is ravenous. It feels like he hasn't eaten in weeks; He quickly plows through all four of the pancakes Steve gave him and takes two of the next set he's flipped onto the platter. “Are you sure I can have these?”

Now Steve takes a seat at the table, pouring syrup on his breakfast. “Yeah, I'm not really that hungry,” he shrugs. “Lost most of my appetite I guess,” His wide brown eyes target Billy.

_ This morning, I woke up with this feeling _

_ I didn't know how to deal with  _

“The blueberries are really good, they make em’ so much better.” He turns to look at Steve, watching him as he's finishing off his last few bites.

_ And so I decided to myself _

_ I'd hide it to myself _

_ And never talk about it _

The eye contact is killing Billy. It is as if Steve has something to say, something eating at him but he won't spill it. Would rather keep it inside.

...Which is a relatable feeling.

Billy skids his stool back with an extremely eerie noise and jumps up, grabbing his fork and dancing around Steve at the table. “I think I love you, so what am I so afraid of,” he stabs the fork into a blueberry on the brunette’s plate, “I'm afraid that I'm not suuuure of,” bites it off the fork, “a love there is no cure foooooor!”

Now Steve is laughing so hard he can't keep his drink down. “You're crazy, Hargrove,”

“I think I love you, isn't that what life is made of?” Billy shimmies out into the living room, leaving the other in the dust. “Though it worries me to say, I never felt this way!”

Steve wipes his mouth with the corner of a napkin and pauses, taking a swig of orange juice before gimping out into the living room, following Billy's quick movement. “Believe me, you really don't have to worry, I only wanna make you happy,” Steve chimes in, moderately embarrassed that he also knows all of the words.

“And if you say  _ HEY _ go away, I will,”

The two sing and dance and for those minutes, everything feels good. They forget the upside-down and the pain they've endured and the bad thoughts and memories disappear. No one is inhabiting this world with them.

“But I think better still, I'd better stay around and love you,” Steve twirls around, clutching his arm for a second but ignoring it.

“Do you think I have a case,” Billy looks at Steve. “Let me ask you to your face,” his hand hovers with the fork-microphone in front of Steve's face as they migrate into the hallway.

“Do you think you love me?”

Billy stops. His hand is gripping the utensil tightly as the song goes on without his own voice overlaying.

_ I think I love you _

_ I think I love you _

_ I think I love you _

_ “ _ ...I think I love you,” Billy whispers, and the world around him freezes. Motionless. How could it feel so still while everything floods in at once? Emotion. He's never felt this way before. Warm. Molten. His heart weighs a metric ton. His breath is thick. He feels like an insect exhibit has been released in his belly, he's shaking. Quivering. It feels like fear - but it's so much deeper than fear. 

Billy drops the fork, and the clanging of the metal to the wood floor is silent. He reaches for Steve. Steve - so beautiful. So gentle. The only person in his life that has never truly left him. Never abandoned him when he needed someone, no matter how short of a time they've known one another.

Steve. Steve who he had teased repeatedly, who he had hurt mentally and physically and who had hurt him in return and they'd suffered together and shared secrets and dumb experiences and they've shared magic, they  _ are _ magic and Steve who Billy feels whole with. Steve who  _ makes  _ him whole. 

Billy's thoughts are racing at two thousand miles per hour as he reaches for Steve and tangles his hands in the boy's goddamn amazing hair and he's so warm, oh  _ god  _ he's so warm and so inviting and Steve is smiling and so wonderful and he kisses him. Billy kisses Steve with every emotion he's ever felt - happiness and sadness and anxiety and bliss. And Steve returns his kiss and they melt together as the song fades out and in that moment, everything they've ever needed is standing right across from them.

_ I think I love you _

_ I think I love you _

_ I think I love you _

Billy pulls away, suddenly feeling so dumb and he's on the verge of pathetic little bitch tears and he's looking at Steve and Steve is looking back at him and holy shit he feels  _ dumb _ . And now Steve's stupid brown eyes are glossy and it's making Billy feel even worse.  _ What the fuck?  _  He rips away from him, forcefully trying to escape.

“I’m sorry, wow,” Billy's mumbling angrily and trying to leave and Steve grabs his arm, whipping him around and pointing his finger sharply against Billy's chest and holy shit Billy just  _ wants to get out of here. _

“Don't you dare try to leave me right now,” he barks and those fucking eyes of his are piercing directly into what Billy figures is his soul.

“I don't want to,” the blond grumbles, refusing eye contact and folding his arms across his chest defensively.

“Then don't, Billy. Don't do this to me. Not now,” Steve wipes away a tear from the corner of his eye and suddenly Billy is filled with fury at himself for even being here. He should have never even came to this place, this fucking mansion. Should have just stayed at the Byers’ house or even better yet, just gotten hit by a car or something back in California and then he wouldn't even have ever came to this dumb fucking state to this dumb hick town with dumb pretty Harrington.

Billy purses his lips and stabs his fingers into his eye sockets in anguish. “I can't.. “ he's starting to double over, trying to hard to avoid Steve's gaze, trying to not look at him and let him see him like this. Conflicted. Full of emotion. Like a fucking baby.

Steve grabs his chin, so gently that Billy wants to smack him, and forces their eyes to lock. “What can't you do?”

Billy chokes on the sob that he's been trying to hold in this  _ entire goddamn time. _ And he's sure that he would rather be struck by lightning in this moment than deal with this situation. “Be weak,” he finally says, mousey and quiet.

Steve's heart breaks for him, and he runs his thumb along Billy's lips. “You're not weak, Billy, don't say that,”

“I'm not weak?” Billy forces a laugh, and if one single laugh could speak, the words would be loud, rude, and angry. “This isn't right.”

Steve doesn't reply. He frowns, able to tell Billy isn't finished.

“It was funny when I was just making fun of you and teasing you and it was just you having a dumb crush, but now…”

Billy can tell Steve is mildly embarrassed and he isn't sure if it was because of him or if the whole situation was just weird. Both, really. Because Billy's head feels like it is two seconds from imploding. Steve’s appearance is changing, his expression falling. “You don't have to pretend to like me back, Billy. It wasn't really funny in the locker room and it's not going to make me feel better now, I just-”

Billy rolls his eyes and groans impatiently. “Ugh, will you just shut the fuck up, Harrington,” he grabs Steve's neck and brings him in, kissing him hard. Billy grins into the kiss, biting down lightly on Steve's bottom lip. “I'm so sick of you.”

Steve lets out a noise he'd never admit to ever making and wraps his arms around Billy's neck. This time is different. Billy feels different. His kiss is  _ different _ . If he had to describe the situation, Steve would never say he is a little bit insulted, but there isn't really a better word for it. Billy, the little shit, had just admitted to purposely toying with his feelings as a joke in school. But what else could Steve expect? You win some and you lose some.

“For the record, Hargrove,” Steve whispers, planting tiny kisses on Billy's cheekbone. “You're not weak, and I think it takes more strength to be true to yourself like this.”

Billy sighs. “I'm over this sentimental bullshit. Let's make out some more,” he reaches around and cups the back of Steve's head.

Steve pulls away a tiny bit, resting his forehead against Billy's. A golden curl hangs in between them, tickling the bridge of Steve's nose. “I'm pretty exhausted and actually  _ really _ sore...wanna watch some Partridge Family?”

Billy throws his head back. “Ugh, Harrington, you fuckin’ get me!” he releases Steve and leaps backwards onto the couch, kicking his feet up.

Steve puts a hand on his hip. “Okay, so I have to grab the tapes and put it on?”

“You can't expect too much from me in one day. What kind of bullshit is that? I'm fully spent at this point and it's only,” he looks at the clock on the wall, “9:02 am.”

Steve rolls his eyes. He grabs the VHS box set and tosses it at Billy, lazing about, and returns with some blankets. As the intro comes on, he smiles at the song and stares at Billy, laying on the couch with his legs strewn across Steve's lap. And despite his heart feeling fluttery and content, his brain is aching and his stomach feels like a pit; Steve can't shake the feeling of dread bubbling in the back of his mind. The pain behind his eyes and the worry of something looming on the horizon. This is Hawkins, after all.

_ Come on, get happy. _


End file.
